


With Stars In Their Eyes

by alba17



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2010-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin plays the guitar, Arthur wears eyeliner, and everybody wants to get famous by winning <i>You're The Voice</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Stars In Their Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for whizzbangpop on LiveJournal. Inspired by American Idol, so it's set in America and the characters are American. Therefore I used American terms and spelling.
> 
> I couldn't have written this without the help of my wonderful fic midwives/betas, troygirl68, who early on encouraged me with song ideas and slashy YouTube videos, and sabriel75, who saved Arthur from being a complete douchebag, among other things. I'm so grateful for their willingness to read several drafts, and their unflagging enthusiasm and encouragement in the face of my writerly insecurities and excesses. You're the best. &hearts&hearts Huge thanks also to my other readers, accordingtomel and paragraphs. :D
> 
>  **Art** : Thanks to itzcoatl for her gorgeous drawing, enthusiasm for the fic and willingness to attempt a modern AU, and kel_reiley for creating the CD cover.
> 
> Additional thanks to shutupeccles for suggesting the name of the singing contest, ficfinishing on LiveJournal for helping me finish the first draft, cheer_me_on at LJ and everyone else I've whined to about this fic.
> 
> Download [PLAYLIST here.](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=F2SEAEOJ)

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v403/Itzcoatl/?action=view&current=Withstarsintheireyesres.jpg)

____spacer____

"What time is it?" Merlin asked Gwen for the twenty billionth time that day. He slouched against the wall, yawning, long legs stretched out over the concrete pavement.

"Merlin. You asked me that five minutes ago. Then it was ten o'clock. Now it is ten-o-five." Gwen gave him a familiar exasperated look.

"Oh." Merlin craned his neck to look at the long line of people snaking around the perimeter of the stadium. "We haven't moved from this spot in half an hour, have we?" He kicked at an empty potato chip bag near his feet.

"You know, you could get your own watch if you're so interested in the time."

"An artist doesn't need to know the time, Gwen. You know that." He mimed playing a few guitar chords while staring up into the cloudless, sun-baked sky; a typical Southern California day.

Gwen peered at him. Half the time she couldn't figure out whether or not he was serious when he said these things. "Are you sure a pink My Little Pony shirt was the best fashion choice for today?"

"The rumor is that Aredian likes them." Gwen looked at him quizzically. Aredian was the British judge. "Up his butt." Merlin guffawed. "No, seriously, I read that online."

"Must be true then," Gwen muttered.

Merlin looked bemused for a moment, as if imagining the sexual possibilities of My Little Ponies. "Kinky. Why don't I own an iPhone by the way?" he said, watching one of their neighbors play Bedazzled on theirs.

"Maybe because you're an impoverished musician who refuses to sell out to the man?"

"Oh yeah. That." In fact, Merlin didn't even own a cell phone. He claimed it was too distracting. "Is auditioning for _You're the Voice_ selling out?" He looked genuinely concerned.

"Why? Do you want to leave and give up already? We've already wasted a few hours on this."

"You don't have to stay." Merlin smiled at her. "Although every rock star needs at least one groupie."

Gwen looked at him fondly. "I'll always be your groupie, Merlin, you know that. By the way, did you ever hear back from that agent?"

For six months, Merlin had been sending his demo CD to agents, hoping to get one of them to sign him up. "Which one? The one who wanted me to suck his dick or the one who wanted you to?"

Gwen sighed and patted Merlin's arm. Other than his mother, Gwen had been Merlin's biggest supporter. She'd been working on publicity for him, getting his name to clubs and more prominent artists, helping him with his demo. They'd made some progress, but it was still frustrating. Sometimes he felt like he was just butting his head up against the wall. But he was ever the optimist. This week he'd been developing a new list of potential agents and working on getting some studio time to record new songs. And maybe, just maybe, _You're The Voice_ would help, if he was lucky.

"Why couldn't they have let us bring our instruments? This is ridiculous." Merlin rarely went anywhere without his guitar. His hands twitched without the familiar feel of the smooth neck and taut strings under his fingers; it was like missing a limb. The instrument was his prize possession; the only thing his father had left behind. When his mother gave it to him on his tenth birthday, his arms had moved into position as if he'd been born with the instrument in his hands. The rounded curves and warm wood, the spot below the sound hole where his father's fingers had worn off the finish, all felt comfortingly familiar, like coming home. He soon taught himself the basics, and when his mother could afford to, she got him lessons so he could develop his technique. If his music career didn't pan out, his back-up plan was to teach guitar lessons.

Without the guitar, he was bored. He should have brought a notebook to jot down some song ideas, as his audition song repeated insistently in his head. He hummed it softly, trying to keep his vocal chords open and loose. He was strangely reluctant to sing it out loud; that seemed like giving away trade secrets or something.

They'd been waiting in this damn line for several hours, since before daylight. And now the sun was high in the sky and the temperature was inching into the 80's. Although the ticket gave them a time to appear, Merlin had heard that everyone showed up early and he wasn't about to give up an advantage right at the beginning. He was in this for the long haul and he intended to win.

"D'you bring anything to eat?" Merlin asked Gwen. Sighing, she pulled out a granola bar for each of them as they settled down on the hard and unforgiving concrete.

~~~

"God, I'm hungry. What do we have to eat?" Arthur Pendragon leaned back in his deluxe camp chair enjoying the shade of the canopy above him. Through his Ray-Bans, he could make out a line of aspiring singers sweltering in the mid-day sun. Why they didn't bring their own coolers and canopies, he couldn't possibly imagine.

Leon scrambled to hand him an apple and a bar of extra dark chocolate, minimum 70 percent cacao, straight out of the cooler. "Here you go, Mr. Pendragon."

"That's better. Thanks, Leon." He took a bite of crunchy apple. "What did I tell you about that Mr. Pendragon business?" It didn't matter how many years Leon had been with him, he refused to call him Arthur. Always a stickler for propriety, Leon was. "Mr. Pendragon is my father, I'm Arthur," Arthur said patiently for the ten thousandth time. "Now, how about something to drink?"

Within seconds, a bottle of ice cold, specially blended vitamin water nudged his hand. This dry heat was hell on his vocal chords; he took a long swig. He'd tried like hell to get around the contest rules that required everyone to wait in this ridiculous line, but to no avail. He'd almost been tempted to ask whether his father could do something – he might have some pull with the network - but that would go against everything he'd been working towards for the last few years.

He was determined to pave his own way. Not that his father would be willing to help him anyway – he was dead set against his son's musical career, for a variety of reasons. But when his father saw him on television as a semi-finalist and ultimately, the winner, maybe then he would finally take seriously his ambition to be a performer.

"Morgana, what time is it?"

Morgana tossed her carefully coiffed dark curls, rolling her eyes at Arthur before consulting her delicate diamond-encrusted watch. "Honestly, you're like a child, Arthur. Father didn't give you that Patek Phillipe just so you could leave it on your dresser at home and pester me for the time instead." Morgana adjusted the strap of her Manolos and took a sip of her iced tea. "You still have it, don't you? Or did you give it away to one of your _groupies_?

She glared at Sophia, who was lounging on a lawn chair on the other side of Arthur, looking ethereal and inspecting her perfectly manicured blood red nails. Morgana and Sophia did not get along. Morgana had made it clear to Arthur that she thought Sophia was a gold digger and, for her part, Sophia resented Morgana's close relationship to Arthur. Arthur probably shouldn't have let them both come today. He heaved a sigh while Sophia leaned over and pawed at his hand possessively, looking sidelong at Morgana.

Still, Sophia had her uses. She was the daughter of one of Uther's business associates, sent to the States for college. Uther had charged Arthur with keeping an eye on her, which for some bizarre reason he thought should entail squiring her around town in the evening. Arthur went along with it; it didn't hurt to be seen with a beautiful woman on his arm.

Arthur's other hanger-on was Cedric, a rabbity sort he had recently taken under his wing. At the moment, Cedric hovered behind Arthur, practically tripping over himself in his attempts to be helpful. Until recently, Cedric had been one of Uther's lieutenants in PLE, the Pendragon family company. Uther summarily fired him without references after hearing a rumor that he was quitting and taking PLE clients with him. Arthur was sure the rumor was false; Cedric was loyal to a fault. He also knew that Cedric needed health insurance for his chronically ill son, so he hired him on as his assistant over Uther's objections. At this point, his duties were minimal, but hopefully there would be a lot more for him to do once Arthur's music career took off.

Arthur snorted at Morgana's remarks and flexed his wrists, which were banded with leather instead of the garish, expensive watch his father had given him. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that thing and you know it." A tattoo of an Egyptian Eye of Horus peeked out from one of the leather bands. His father didn't like that either, nor the other tattoos that embellished Arthur's smooth golden body.

Looking at his little assembled group, Arthur found it hilarious that anyone would think of Sophia and Cedric as his groupies. But he did feel responsible for them to some degree and he appreciated their support. He wanted to win this contest for them and Morgana, even Leon, as much as for himself. He felt he owed it to them somehow, and he would do it without the help of his father or anyone else.

~~~

Merlin got up and stretched his arms. "I've got to walk around or I'm going to be stuck in a pretzel shape forever." He shook one raggedy purple Converse-clad foot in the air. "My foot's asleep too. Save our spot, will you?"

"Of course. Did you think I'd give up on all these hours of waiting by abandoning it?"

"You're a good friend, Gwen, for keeping me company while I do this."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "It's not like I could let you do this by yourself. You'd probably get in the wrong line or lose your ticket or something. This is your big chance. Anyway, go ahead and walk around, I'll save our spot."

Merlin flashed a big grin at her and Gwen looked down shyly. There was always that vague air of flirtation between them that never quite went beyond friendship. Merlin suspected Gwen might have a crush on him, but she never said anything. He thought of her as a BFF, but still as a friend only. Even though he knew when she found the right guy, he'd probably be jealous.

Merlin stretched his legs, swinging his arms around to loosen up. He was nervous as hell, but confident that he would stand out from the pack of mediocre and downright bad singers. He had singing chops and he knew it. Surely the judges would see it too. He hoped he could get to at least the second line of his song, the part that went up to the high note, although from what he'd heard, he'd be lucky to sing more than five bars.

He ambled down the line of hopefuls playing with their phones, vocalizing and munching on candy bars. There was every sort of person there, from waif-like folk-singing girls with long blonde hair and gypsy outfits, to gold-bedecked rappers, to pale, black haired Goths to nerdy weirdos going for the novelty approach, probably hoping their audition would go viral on YouTube.

Merlin slowed down when he saw a group of people under a red canopy. They had a cooler and there was even a rug under the entire arrangement, as if for a visiting maharajah. They all seemed to be hovering around a blond guy wearing sunglasses and sitting in a camp chair, dressed completely in black. Oh. Him. Mr. Rock God. He was hard to forget.

Earlier that morning, Merlin and Gwen were finding their spot in the line when a gleaming black SUV limo pulled up to the entry point. They gaped as a veritable rock god alighted on the steamy pavement, big heeled silver-trimmed black boots stepping out of the gigantic vehicle. Black leather clung to his thighs, emphasizing the long line of his legs, and he wore a studded black leather vest over a black T-shirt whose short sleeves revealed muscular arms decorated by a few tribal tattoos. His naturally blond hair was streaked with platinum and cut in an asymmetrical style, one side a dramatic swoop, the other short. He wore an ornate silver belt buckle in the shape of a silver dragon. The line of people near the entrance fell silent as Mr. Rock God strutted toward the check-in table like he owned the place, entourage in tow, gesturing to a minion who pulled out his paperwork.

Merlin and Gwen had stood there, stunned along with everyone else, before scooping their jaws up from the floor and trading disgusted looks. Who the hell was this guy? Merlin spared a moment to appreciate his appearance before concluding that he was probably just a pretentious talent-free poseur.

And now here was Mr. Rock God lording his luxuries over the other peons in the stadium audition line. Amazing. Merlin stood there watching for a few minutes, hands in his pockets. Rock God was surrounded by two beautiful women, one blonde and one brunette, who seemed to be vying for his attention, plus a couple of male lackeys, one of whom was spraying mist on Rock God's face. This guy was a piece of work.

When he heard the tall male lackey call him Mr. Pendragon, it all became clear. This must be Arthur Pendragon, son of the famous Uther Pendragon, a power in this town for decades. Merlin sucked in a breath, trying not to gape too obviously. Arthur occasionally appeared in the gossip pages, usually linked to the blonde now clinging to his arm.

He looked even better in person than he did in photographs.

Arthur's phone rang and he grimaced when he saw the number calling. As he listened to the person on the other end of the line, he scowled and straightened up in his chair, clearly getting angry.

"Don't start with this again, Father." Now Merlin was intrigued. That was Uther Pendragon on the phone. He felt rooted to the spot.

"It doesn't matter what you say. I'm doing this and I'm doing it on my own." Arthur shot up out of the chair and started pacing. His companions looked concerned. Merlin scurried back so as not to _appear_ to be eavesdropping.

"You haven't even heard me sing. If you'd take the time to see me perform, you'd see that I'm actually good." He pushed a hand into his hair, obviously exasperated.

"That's not going to happen." His voice was quieter now and Merlin had to struggle to hear. "Father, it's safe. Don't worry. Things are different now. I'll hire a bodyguard if you want."

Merlin recalled that in the 1980's, Arthur's mother had been a budding star with a clear, ringing soprano voice that melted audience's hearts. She went by a single name, Igraine. There was a famous picture of her hugging a small blond boy – Arthur. Merlin could see it clearly in his mind's eye. She'd been killed by a crazy fan who had relentlessly stalked her. Arthur couldn't have been more than three or four when it happened. After that, Uther became something of a recluse.

Arthur threw the phone on the ground and flung himself into his chair. The dark-haired woman bit her lip and put her hand on his shoulder. "Arthur, do you want to..."

"It's fine," he bit out. "We're staying." His expression softened. "You know how he gets. But I'm going to do this."

She nodded. "Okay, if that's what you want."

Merlin felt for him, not having the support of his father. Merlin's mother always encouraged his pursuit of music and he was incredibly grateful for that.

But he'd loitered long enough. He didn't want to look like a conspicuous celebrity hound; Arthur probably got enough of that. He was about to go back to Gwen when he noticed two mousy girls inching closer to Arthur, like moths drawn to flame. One of them wore a t-shirt that said "Frankie Says Relax." They giggled and whispered to each other as Arthur called out to them, but they were on the other side of Arthur's canopy and Merlin couldn't make out what he said. They giggled some more, and one of them approached Arthur shyly. He flashed her a wicked grin.

"Why don't you sing for us, then?" Arthur called out.

She shook her head and mumbled something, inching back to her friend. Arthur and his friends laughed. "That's what you're here for, isn't it? If you can't sing for us, how are you going to sing for the judges? Come on, now." He gestured to his entourage. "Can you believe this?" They all shook their heads obligingly, except the tall brunette, who frowned.

The two girls scurried away, glancing back and furiously texting.

"Better get another t-shirt then! Frankie says you need to get that stick out of your ass!" Arthur yelled after them and he and his friends laughed uproariously, the small, brown-haired man clapping him on the back.

The tall brunette rolled her eyes and stood up, taking a cigarette pack out of her purse and said loudly, "Arthur, you're an asshole."

"What? Come on, Morgana, just having a little fun. I'm bored out of my mind here."

Morgana looked down her nose at him, disdainfully blowing smoke out of the side of her mouth.

Merlin was intrigued and perplexed. Arthur was Hollywood royalty, but here he was waiting in line with the masses to audition in a singing contest, even though his father disapproved. And then Arthur behaved like a jerk with those girls. Merlin didn't know what to think.

As he finally turned to go back to his spot in line, his eye caught Arthur's. Crap. He'd hoped to avoid his notice, seeing how he treated those girls, but it was too late. Now that their eyes had met, though, Merlin couldn't pull his gaze away, transfixed. Arthur's smile faded as he noticed Merlin looking at him. His eyes were beautiful, Merlin noticed, the eyeliner bringing out their almond shape and intense blue.

Heat rose up the back of Merlin's neck as he realized he was staring and his pulse thudded in his veins. There was something about Arthur, something Merlin was drawn to. With his strong jaw, golden hair and chiseled body, Merlin would have liked to be in awe of him. Too bad he was spending his time mocking insecure teenage girls.

But now he was saying nothing; he met Merlin's gaze straight on. The moment stretched, like thread unwinding from a spool, the air vibrating between them. Arthur shifted in his seat before finally dragging his eyes away, turning to say something quietly to his companions. Merlin couldn't make it out, but they all looked at Merlin and laughed. His stomach lurched into his throat and Merlin turned tail, not wanting to become the target of Arthur's derision.

But he couldn't forget the tingle that went up his spine at the intensity of Arthur's gaze.

~~~

A week or so later, Merlin was in Hollywood, ensconced in a hotel with the other contestants who'd made it through to the next stage. He idly strummed his guitar and stared at a stain on the ceiling; if he squinted, it looked like a dragon. "Puff the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea," he sang lazily, his voice just barely touching the notes. That was one of his favorite songs as a kid; as he sang, it brought back the smell of his mother's cologne, the feel of her hair sweeping across his cheek as he snuggled in bed before she turned out the light. He could see the dragon nightlight across the room, glowing chartreuse and red through the night.

He'd always been drawn to dragons. He fingers paused on the strings as he realized that was part of Arthur's last name, Pen – dragon. Interesting. He'd been thinking about Arthur Pendragon a lot since the stadium auditions. What had that look meant? If Arthur hadn't been with a beautiful woman – but no, he was obviously straight. Nonetheless, Merlin couldn't forget the heated intensity of Arthur's gaze, the strange jolt of recognition that passed between them.

Both Merlin and Arthur had made it to Hollywood Week, when the contestants were whittled down to a couple of dozen. Merlin still couldn't quite believe it. He'd been on cloud nine since he found out. His Facebook and MySpace pages were overrun with congratulatory comments and friends he hadn't seen since middle school were coming out of the woodwork – a true sign of success.

His local paper even ran a feature on him: "Local boy the next _Voice_?" with an accompanying photo in which Merlin appeared to be twelve years old, all big eyes, sticking out ears and floppy dark hair. His mother said it was adorable and placed it prominently on the mantel in a frame, where it vied for honor with his similarly dorky graduation photo. Merlin cringed when he saw it.

Gwen had been right about the My Little Pony shirt. When he finally got to sing, they'd made him wear it inside out because shirts with characters weren't allowed. And Aredian wasn't there anyway, just a raft of minor producers no one had ever heard of. In his excitement about going to Hollywood, he'd hugged all of them enthusiastically.

Merlin had caught sight of Arthur from afar a couple of times, now stripped of his coterie of minions. Merlin had been too caught up in his own excitement to be overly concerned with him. Although when it grew dark and he lay in bed with only his own thoughts for company, he inevitably started musing on blond hair and blue eyes; the curve of a leather-clad thigh.

Merlin's roommate was a handsome guy named Lance who hailed from the boonies of Maine. Within moments of moving in, he had Merlin in stitches with hilarious descriptions of his eccentric French Canadian family. He'd studied to be a priest, but gave that up when he realized he wanted to devote his life to music. He went into a detailed explanation of how he could serve God more fully through music than the church, but Merlin had had a long day and fell asleep before he heard the whole thing.

It was the next morning as he plonked a few chords on his guitar while staring at the dragon stain on the ceiling. He'd barely slept, wired from nerves and excitement. As he waited for Lance to finish his shower so they could go find some breakfast, he surveyed his Gwen-approved selection of clothes. She rejected as tacky the green t-shirt with the baby foxes in a field of daisies but relented when Merlin swore he was wearing it ironically. It wasn't just because he liked cute little furry creatures. Of course, he did, but that wasn't the point.

Lance emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping, a towel wrapped around his waist, and Merlin was momentarily distracted from the song he was working on by the realization that Lance was quite fit. Merlin idly pictured Lance working out, as he eyed his six-pack. He coughed – the air in the hotel was really quite dry – and put down his guitar.

They grabbed some breakfast – a smoothie for Lance, and a yogurt and granola for Merlin – then spent some time walking down Hollywood Boulevard in the brilliant California sunshine. Lance stared at the palm trees and enjoyed the mild weather that was winter in Southern California, laughing when he saw people wearing scarves and boots.

They walked along for fifteen or twenty minutes before Merlin noticed Lance had started looking at his watch repeatedly.

"Is it time?" Merlin asked, a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. Today was the first round of Hollywood Week. They both could be out of it today. And it would be back to his cruddy job at Dunkin' Donuts, his chance of breaking into the business gone for good. His stomach lurched again.

"Yep," Lance replied. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Merlin said, blowing out a breath; which was to say, he didn't feel ready at all, but he didn't have much choice in the matter. "Are you sure this shirt is okay?"

"Dude, frolicking foxes?" Lance shook his head. "Don't you have any basic black?"

Merlin looked panicky.

Lance patted him on the back, "Naw, it's fine. Kids will think it's cute."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Kids," he said, scoffing.

"Haven't you seen this show? They pack the audience with teenage girls. That's our target right there."

"Okay, okay. Yeah, you're right, I guess."

"We're gonna kick ass, right? Come on, buck up. I've heard you. You're one talented guy."

Merlin gave him a little smile and an aw-shucks look. "Thanks. You are too." He meant it.

Lance raised his hand for a high five. Merlin rolled his eyes again and laughed. "Seriously?"

Lance looked a little hurt at that, so Merlin gave in and returned the high-five. "Okay, why not?"

~~~

 _You're The Voice_ mostly seemed to be about waiting. There were lines for everything, in bland, faceless rooms and corridors with bad air, filled with the stink of moldering junk food and dozens of anxious and bored young people. It didn't end when they got to Hollywood, despite hopes of rubbing shoulders with glamorous stars on Hollywood Boulevard, which turned out to be more about seedy strip malls than Jaguars and Mercedes.

The labyrinthine corridors of the studio were swarming with aspiring singers, arrayed in groups of eight for the first round of Hollywood Week. Everyone had their song ready and the air was filled with a cacophony of sound, as people ran through their numbers. Merlin had triple-checked the tuning of his guitar to make sure it was perfect.

He was in the same group as Arthur Pendragon. Arthur caught his eye once, then quickly looked away, studying his music. Merlin couldn't tell if he recognized him from the stadium line. He tried to focus on his own preparation as Arthur chatted in an irritatingly loud voice with a group of singers gathered around a grand piano on the other side of the room. There was a sudden commotion when Arthur knocked over someone's soda with his elbow and it spilled on the guy's music.

"What did you do that for?" The guy yelled at Arthur, getting red in the face. Probably nerves were causing him to overreact, because surely he didn't need the music at this point. The man stood up quickly, letting the wet pages fall to the floor as the soda spread in a brown icy puddle on the linoleum floor. The room grew quiet.

"It was an accident," Arthur said, somewhat defensively. "What's your problem? You don't have it memorized?" Arthur taunted the fellow. "Go on, sing it from memory right now. What key is it in? What's the first note?"

The guy just looked at Arthur like he was crazy. "Uh..." He glanced at the music on the floor. "Are you nuts?"

"You _don't_ have it memorized, do you? Pfft." Arthur made a gesture of dismissal.

The guy did seem like a bit of an idiot, but Merlin thought he better try to put a stop to this before things got any farther. He approached the two men with what he hoped was a disarming expression.

"Hey, come on, that's enough."

"What?" Arthur looked at him like he had two heads.

"You've had your fun, my friend."

Arthur turned towards Merlin. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Merlin," he said, sticking out his hand toward Arthur, trying to overcome his nervousness with manners. His mother always taught him that politeness got you through any difficult situation.

"So I don't." Arthur pointedly didn't extend his hand toward Merlin. But his eyes flickered with recognition. He _did_ remember Merlin. "Yet...you called me...friend," Arthur drawled in an insinuating tone, the flicker replaced with cold, narrowed eyes. He was pretending he'd never seen Merlin before.

"My mistake." Merlin gave a little half smile, wondering what the hell was going on here, flummoxed by Arthur's hostility.

"I think so." Arthur started turning back to the guy whose music he'd ruined.

Merlin had had enough. He shouldn't let him, but Arthur pushed his buttons and the words flew out of his mouth before he knew it. "I'd never have a friend that could be such an ass." Some people tittered.

"Or I one that could be so stupid," Arthur sneered, his hands on his hips. "Don't you know who I am?"

Merlin ignored him and started walking back to his guitar on the other side of the room.

"I said, don't you know who I am?" Arthur said more loudly.

"No, _your highness,_ I don't and what's more, I don't care," Merlin replied, raising his voice. There was muttering around the room, and he noticed a few people gravitating toward Arthur. Either they realized who he was or were impressed with Arthur's implication that he was somebody important.

Arthur approached him, holding his hands out in a welcoming gesture and looking around at the singers for support, "Come on, then. What are you gonna do?" He kept moving towards Merlin. "Come...on," he said, low and mocking, hands urging Merlin to do something.

Merlin heard a soft voice behind him saying, "Do it." He was transported abruptly back to the playground, the years when he'd been bullied himself. The difference was now he could do something about it. Arthur was bigger, but years of Tae Kwon Do had taught Merlin he could use that to his advantage. Maybe now was the time to put theory into practice.

Fuck it. He took a swing at Arthur's smug face. Immediately, he realized it was mistake, because Arthur instantly spun him around, pushing Merlin's arm up painfully behind his back. Merlin struggled to get away, but Arthur had a strong grip on him

"See, _Merlin_ , my father is Uther Pendragon. Maybe you've heard of him. Chairman and owner of PLE. He just about owns this town."

Merlin jerked his arms but still couldn't wriggle out of Arthur's hold. Fucking asshole.

"And I think he would expect the other contestants to treat me with respect. Because if you want to get anywhere in this business, you need the Pendragons on your side."

Did Arthur really expect him to buy that line? What a jerk. Merlin wrenched his arms again, stepping hard on Arthur's foot at the same time. Arthur grunted and loosened his grip, enabling Merlin to break free. He stumbled away, rubbing his arms where Arthur had twisted them. He was fuming now. "Is that why you're here on _You're The Voice?_? Because your father owns this town?" he spit out.

Arthur's face crumpled and he stared at Merlin with an inscrutable expression. Merlin felt the teensiest bit of remorse seeing his reaction, but still, he deserved it, showing off like that.

At that point, the security guard finally lumbered over, looking resentful. "All right, guys, come on, break it up. Don't make my job harder. If you let this go now, I won't have to turn you in."

Merlin's eyes were locked on Arthur's, ignoring the security guard. They were both breathing fast, chests visibly rising and falling. Part of Merlin was livid, but another part felt like crying.

"You'd best remember what I said," Arthur said, low, his lips tight and eyes glinting. He turned to the guy with the music. "I'm sorry. I'll try to find some paper towels." He cut another glance at Merlin before walking to the door.

Merlin watched him leave the room and tried to calm down so he could focus on the audition. But he could still feel Arthur's breath hot against his neck, his chest pressed hard against his back. He shook his head to get rid of the breathless feeling in his throat and felt a hot wave of shame at how badly he'd overreacted. The stress really must be getting to him.

So much for his la-di-dah notions about that look they shared in the stadium audition line. Arthur Pendragon was clearly a class A-1 jerk.

~~~

Finally, their group was called into the studio to audition. They filed into the back of the room, and Merlin's heartbeat skittered nervously. His hands felt clammy – he hoped his fingers didn't slip on the strings. The judges were seated behind a long table, shuffling papers and sipping coffee. They looked bored. Merlin told himself all he had to do was make it through this round, do the best he could and not worry about the other contestants; just pretend this was like any other time he'd performed.

He emphatically avoided thinking about Arthur Pendragon, even though he was just a few feet away, dressed in his full rock god regalia for the audition. The man pushed his buttons like no one else ever had, but he couldn't afford to be distracted. Arthur didn't speak to him at all. In fact, he was rather stony-faced – probably nervous. At one point, they happened to catch each other's eye and Merlin was surprised when Arthur gave him an apologetic little half-smile. Maybe he was regretting his earlier boorish behavior.

Finally, Merlin's name was called and he stepped toward the judges. The studio lights were intense and he could feel the sweat sprouting under his arms. He caught a whiff of intense cologne, probably from the judge named Vivian, whose face was lacquered with makeup. He knew he would only get to sing a brief segment of his song, so he tuned out everything else and concentrated on the music. It was Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen; always a big hit when he sang it at open mics. There wasn't enough time to really lose himself in the song, but he managed to convey as much of the spirit of it as he could in a few measures, making eye contact with each of the judges. Luckily, he was able to hit the sweet spot in his voice and they actually let him go on longer than most other contestants.

Did they actually like it? He dared to hope so, elation unfurling in his chest as he saw their approving looks. Not surprisingly, it was the mean judge, Catrina, who cut him off. But she shocked him when she went on to compliment him on his emotional delivery and the timbre of his voice. Aredian, who never said anything, gave him a nod down his patrician nose to indicate he had passed, intoning a single word, "Excellent." Merlin was so happy; he felt he could levitate.

Dazed, he returned to the group, heart thumping madly. He couldn't feel his feet moving as he walked.  
He was itching to call his mother and Gwen to tell them the good news. The other singer's auditions went unnoticed as he floated on a cloud of distracted happiness.

When it was Arthur's turn, though, he snapped to attention. The other contestants stirred with interest as well. By now everyone knew who Arthur was, and his status as semi-famous kin to Hollywood royalty had all the singers aflutter. He played the rock god card to the hilt, fully aware he was probably the most attractive contestant. It was impossible not to admire his confident swagger as he strode forward to sing.

The judges seemed to appreciate his stage presence, whether or not they were aware of his identity. They all sat up attentively in their seats as he took his spot in front of them. Vivian blatantly gave Arthur the eye, raking him up and down appreciatively. A slow smirk spread across her face, her tongue peaking out between glossy pink lips, blue eyes growing wide. Apparently he passed muster.

But Arthur turned out to be more than just a façade. Even _a cappella_ , his version of _You Can't Always Get What You Want_ was compelling. He didn't sound like some kid pretending to be Mick Jagger; he grabbed the song by the throat and made it his own, giving it just the right edge and hitting the notes perfectly, with enough style to lift it out of mere imitation and into the realm of genuine performance.

His eyes were closed as he sang, hips swiveling to the beat, energetically tapping his foot. Even without accompaniment, Arthur conveyed the grinding, almost sexual rhythm of the bluesy melody. Merlin found himself mesmerized by the sway of glinting silver studs on the belt circling his slim hips, the enticing curve of his ass as it thrust back and forth. From where he was standing, Merlin could just see a bit of his profile, the full lips spread in song, the hair falling forward over his cheek as his voice fell into a growl that reverberated right through Merlin's groin.

 _Oh my god._

When the judges cut him off, Merlin was disappointed; he desperately wanted to hear Arthur do the rest of the song. To his surprise, Arthur was no mere poseur. On the contrary, he was a promising performer who definitely deserved to make it through the round.

All the judges gave Arthur approving notices – he made it through. Vivian was especially complimentary, gushing adorably as she spouted her usual nonsensical comments, brazenly winking at Arthur when she was through.

As Arthur rejoined the rest of the contestants, he looked as stupefied as Merlin had felt after he sang. His eyes glistened a deep blue and his face was flushed with excitement; a brilliant smile of pure happiness beaming from his face. He looked utterly gorgeous.

When he saw Merlin's hungry gaze, however, his smile faded into the ghost of a scowl.

In the end, Merlin and Arthur were the only ones in their group to make it through to the second round of Hollywood Week. As soon as they left the studio, Merlin called his mother with the news, then Gwen. Of course, they were both thrilled. Gwen wanted to come take Merlin out for a drink, but he was too tired and just wanted to relax, so they planned for Gwen to come and hang out in the hotel room for awhile that night.

As he got off the phone with Gwen, Arthur was passing by, tucking his own phone into his pocket; probably he'd just called his own friends and family. Merlin nodded to him warily. After a moment's hesitation, Arthur nodded back, face tight and closed, and continued on his way.

~~~

"Merlin, I really like her." Lance was talking about Gwen; they'd met the night before when she came to the hotel to see Merlin, and had really hit it off. "I'm going to ask her out."

They'd just gotten lunch from the craft service buffet backstage and were looking for a place to sit.

Merlin felt a twinge of jealousy. Gwen had finally met someone. "What? Really?" He'd guessed as much. It had been obvious from Gwen's shy glances and Lance's flirty quips.

As usual, Merlin was preoccupied with the conversation and not paying attention to his feet. The next thing he knew, he was falling on his face and his lunch was scattered all over the floor. As he raised his head, the first thing he saw was a familiar pair of black boots with silver heels, decorated with bits of lettuce drenched in blue cheese dressing.

 _Oh dear god._

Merlin grinned stupidly, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. He sat up and picked a piece of cucumber off his shirt.

"For christ's sake, Merlin! You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Arthur was trying to sop up the tomato soup on his jeans with some flimsy paper napkins.

Merlin gaped helplessly, then grabbed some napkins and started dabbing Arthur's jeans with them. "Sorry, god, I'm so sorry." His cheeks flamed when he realized the close proximity of his hands to Arthur's crotch.

"New at this walking business, Merlin? Perhaps you need a refresher course." Arthur waved Merlin's hands away. "Just leave it. They're ruined anyway. Do you know how much these jeans cost?"

Merlin's mouth flapped soundlessly. He should have known Arthur wouldn't be gracious about something that was just an accident.

"More than you earn in a year probably, that's how much. They're couture."

Couture jeans? Really? Arthur just made that up to torture him. "I'll pay, I'll pay, don't worry." He wasn't sure how though.

"You'd better. I'm going to send you a bill." Arthur huffed and gave Merlin a disgusted look. "You've got something in your hair." Merlin held his breath as Arthur's hand reached up and plucked something out of his hair. He held out a piece of lettuce like it was a dead rat.

"Oh. Thanks," Merlin said, his breath letting out in a whoosh.

"Thanks to you, I'm going to have to go back to the hotel to change. I'll miss the beginning of rehearsal."

"Er, I'm sorry?"

"Merlin, you're nothing but a bumbling fool. How are you even coordinated enough to play the guitar? The judges must have been temporarily insane when they let you on to this show." Arthur glared at him for a moment, then stomped off, fuming.

Merlin rolled his eyes as he tried to clean up the mess. What a jerk. Still, he wouldn't have minded helping Arthur out of those jeans. Maybe he should have offered. Like that was ever going to happen.

~~~

That evening, Merlin headed off to see Gwen, his guitar case slung over his back. As he reached for the door of a taxi outside the hotel, he heard a familiar voice calling, "That's mine!"

Arthur. Naturally. Merlin ignored him and started clambering into the taxi.

Arthur ran up and grabbed onto the door. "Hold on, I need this cab."

"No, I called for it. It's mine." Merlin couldn't believe this.

"Well, I've got an appointment I need to get to and I'm already late."

"And that's my problem how?"

"I'm late!" he repeated, as if that entitled him to steal Merlin's cab.

"It's my cab, damn it. Where's your gas-guzzling SUV, anyway?"

"None of your damn business," Arthur said through clenched teeth.

Merlin tried to close the door, but Arthur was standing in the way and he wasn't moving.

"You really are an ass." Merlin sighed. "Where are you going?" he said with an air of resignation. Arthur gave an address in the same part of town Merlin was going to – of course. "All right. Get in. We'll share, if you can stand to be near someone as lowly as me," he sneered.

Arthur smirked as he got in. "Glad to see you finally came to your senses." He shoved Merlin's guitar case out of the way with an annoyed look.

"Going shopping for couture jeans?" Merlin said.

"I realize that you probably get all your clothes from Walmart, but I'll have you know those jeans have to be ordered specially from Paris, _Mer_ -lin."

They sat there in seething silence as the driver loudly berated someone on the phone in an unknown language.

"Actually, I refuse to shop at Walmart. They have unfair employment practices," Merlin said.

Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to checking his e-mail.

~~~

Merlin was more than a little sloshed as he and Lance walked back to the hotel. They'd gone out to celebrate making it through to the next round – Lance had made it too – along with a couple of the other contestants. At this point, everyone had the feeling of being in this together, and the atmosphere at the bar was one of camaraderie as everyone gossiped about the judges and the other contestants.

"I heard Catrina farts a lot," Lance said, snagging one of Merlin's French fries. Merlin laughed, perhaps a little too loudly. He'd already had a couple of beers, which was more than his usual allotment of zero. At home, everyone knew Merlin couldn't drink, not unless you wanted the night to end up with Merlin shirtless, doing the macarena on top of a table. But here, there were no such limitations, and Merlin was happily working on his third one.

"I think Vivian has the hots for Arthur," Merlin said, dripping ketchup on his shirt.

"Who wouldn't?" Lance said. Merlin flushed, and gulped at his beer, then loudly belched. "Supposedly Catrina does that a lot too," Lance observed dryly.

Merlin gawped at him. "I should introduce her to my friend Will. They'd get along swimmingly." Merlin felt the familiar ache whenever he thought of Will, who had been his best friend in high school until Merlin realized he was in love with him and made the big mistake of actually telling him. Will had completely freaked out and refused to talk to him. They eventually made it up, but things were never the same between them.

Merlin preferred not to define himself as far as his sexuality. He'd had a couple of girlfriends - nothing serious. He admired feminine beauty and he enjoyed a good make-out session with a girl as much as the next guy. But he seemed to save his all-consuming passion for men. His girlfriends had been fun, but he hadn't been in love with them. The inevitable break-up occurred when they figured out he didn't feel the same way as they did.

His last girlfriend, Freya, had gotten sick of Merlin constantly going on about Will this and Will that, and always making time for Will while ignoring Freya. In fact, that was when Merlin realized what his true feelings were for Will. But since that hadn't worked out so well, he'd suffered the double whammy of losing Freya and Will within a short period of time. He hadn't really had a steady girlfriend – or boyfriend, for that matter – since.

"Why? Are you attracted to him?" Merlin had enough alcohol in his system to have no qualms about asking Lance. He took a nervous slurp of his beer.

"Naw, I go strictly for the girls, but I can appreciate an attractive guy," Lance said. "Arthur knows how to play up his assets."

Merlin spent a moment contemplating those assets, remembering his performance the week before. He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"What about you?" Lance asked, sipping from his bottle of beer.

"Me?" Merlin squeaked a bit, to his horror.

Lance chuckled. "Yeah, you." He snagged another fry. "Dimwit."

"Well, he's ummm...well...yeah." Merlin face felt beet red. "He's not bad."

"Not bad, eh?" Lance launched a fry towards Merlin's head. It caught in his hair and Merlin pulled it out with disgust. Then he ate it with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Yeah. And next time get your own fries."

~~~

Stumbling down the street from the bar, Merlin grabbed onto Lance more than once to prevent himself from falling. Who knew LA had such uneven sidewalks? Must have something to do with earthquakes and fault lines and California falling into the ocean.

"You should've seen the look on Vivian's face, Lance, when Arthur walked up there," Merlin slurred. "It was like all her Christmases had come at once." His muddled brain was dimly aware he was once again talking about Arthur Pendragon.

Lance laughed. "More like a foot-long hotdog with all the trimmings." Lance grabbed at his crotch and Merlin guffawed; the image of a giant hot dog sticking up out of Arthur's fancy leather trousers give him the giggles so hard he doubled over and couldn't stop. Lance grabbed Merlin's shoulder to prevent him from careening out into the path of an oncoming taxi, "Whoa, hold on there, buddy."

Merlin swerved back the other way, still laughing his head off. "Foot-long! Hahahaha!"

Lance rolled his eyes. " Merlin, my man, we need to get you back to the hotel and in bed with a glass of water. Or two."

They had just turned the corner into a dark side street when they heard the sounds of yelling and grunting from down the block. A knot of young men were in the midst of some kind of fight, mostly pushing and shoving at each other. A thrill of shock and adrenaline cleared some of the fog in Merlin's head.

"Wait." Lance held him back with his arm. They watched for a moment, not wanting to get involved in a dangerous situation without reason. It wasn't clear what the fight was about, but Merlin thought he heard one guy shout something about "fags." Oh Jesus. That was sobering. It might not mean anything, but then again, they could be witnessing a gay bashing.

The fight escalated when one man threw a punch; the thwack of fist hitting soft skin and bone resounded in the empty street. Merlin saw a flash of pale hair and he realized with a shock that it was Arthur.

"Lance, it's Arthur!" Merlin tried to quell the panic inside him.

"You're kidding." Lance sighed and he set his jaw determinedly. "Where's his entourage when we need it? Come on," he said. He started to march toward the fight when Arthur managed to knock one man down to the ground with a blow to his jaw. Then he went after the other one. He manhandled him up against the wall, holding his neck like he was a rag doll, the man's legs kicking against the ground. At that point, Arthur noticed Merlin and Lance approaching. "Help him," he grunted out, nodding to a brown-haired boy who was about to get pummeled by a third guy.

Lance attacked him from behind, pulling him off the boy and kneeing him in the kidneys. He crumpled to the ground with a groan. "Quick, let's go," Lance said to the boy. "What's your name?"

He looked dazed, panting, his face sweaty in the steely light of the streetlights. "Mordred." He looked shaky, so Merlin took his arm to steady him.

Arthur succeeded in scaring off the last of the aggressors and the group of them ran off down the street, yelling a few parting jeers as they went.

"You okay?" Arthur said to Mordred, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I guess." He didn't look very sure. In fact, he looked like he might faint. From the smell, he was just as plastered as Merlin. He leaned into Arthur's shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. "My hero," he said with a goofy grin, before his head lolled back into the crook of Arthur's shoulder. He was tiny, barely coming up to Arthur's shoulder, and had big round blue eyes. Merlin wondered how old he was.

"Um..." Arthur looked embarrassed and put his arm around Mordred's narrow shoulders to support him as they headed back to the hotel.

"What happened?" Merlin asked, suddenly feeling much more sober.

"They were harassing him," Arthur said quietly, glancing at Mordred. "Calling him names. You know, fag and stuff like that." His face hardened into planes of light and dark under the harsh light of the streetlamp. "They were going to beat him up. I had to help him or...I don't know what would have happened."

"You think it was gay bashing, then?" Lance asked, concerned.

"Yeah." Arthur's voice was rough; he stared coldly down the street.

Merlin noticed a nasty scrape on Arthur's cheek. "You're hurt. You know, we should call the police."

Arthur's head jerked up. "No." The fear was evident in his eyes. The three of them looked at each other. Merlin knew they were all thinking the same thing: this would be a huge scandal if it got out. They might even be kicked off the show. Arthur looked at Mordred again and drew a shaky breath. "Well, I suppose we should. It's the right thing to do."

"No cops," Mordred mumbled into Arthur's jacket, clinging more closely. "Don' wan' parens t'know."

Lance and Merlin shared a look. "Parents, huh?" Lance said. He blew out a breath. "Let's just get back to the hotel and we can figure out what to do there."

~~~

"Hold still!"

"I am!"

"You are not. You're wigglier than a two year old." Merlin was trying to clean the abrasions on Arthur's cheek and failing in his attempt to not completely freak out. It didn't help that his mind was still fuzzy around the edges from beer. They'd retreated to Lance and Merlin's room and Arthur and Merlin were sitting on the bed so Merlin could provide first aid. Mordred was lying down, resting on the other bed. From the steady rise and fall of his chest, it looked like he might have fallen asleep.

Lance passed out glasses of water and wet washcloths to clean up. Merlin drank his water in one gulp.

"More," he said, gesturing with the plastic cup. After chugging another glassful, he said to Arthur, "So tell us more about what happened."

Arthur grimaced at the memory. "I had dinner with my sister and my friends. They went home, and I was on my way back to the hotel. I heard voices in the alley, and saw those guys had Mordred trapped there." His blue eyes were shadowed. "One of them was pushing him down to his knees, trying to get him to...you know." Arthur looked Merlin in the eye and made a crude gesture.

"Oh God." Merlin was shocked.

Lance looked horrified. "Really?"

"Yeah, it looked like he even had his fly unzipped." Merlin dabbed a little too forcefully. "Ouch! Careful. I know you don't have a degree in nursing, Merlin, but you should be able to clean up a little scratch without causing me further injury."

"Oh. Sorry." Merlin didn't look too concerned. "It's a good thing you came along then. You really were his hero." Merlin grinned at Arthur. He was impressed. Maybe Arthur was more than just a spoiled brat with some musical talent.

He didn't look very heroic now though – he was a mess. His eyeliner was smudged into smoky rings that made his light eyes pop, and his hair was sticking up in unruly clumps. The neck of his shirt was torn from the fight, allowing a glimpse of muscular, lightly furred chest. Merlin couldn't help thinking that he looked adorably mussed.

Arthur snorted and looked uncomfortable. "Maybe."

Merlin rearranged the washcloth to a clean spot and patted Arthur's injury more delicately.

"I was just in the right place at the right time. It's no big deal," Arthur said, with uncharacteristic modesty.

"Not everyone would have helped him," Merlin said, meeting Arthur's eye. His hand hesitated, hovering with the washcloth. His breath caught at the intimacy of the moment; sitting close together on the bed, his hand touching Arthur's face, cupping his chin and cheek to hold it still. The skin was smooth under his fingers, stretched taut over the comforting solidity of Arthur's jaw, peppered with just a hint of stubble. He itched to caress it, to slide his fingers lovingly over its surface. It would be so easy to just push his hand into Arthur's hair, pull him closer and kiss him. He was so near, just a few inches away. He could feel Arthur's breath puffing warm against his face as his eyes seemed to get bigger, the pupils expanding into dark pools ringed with aquamarine.

A groan from the other bed interrupted the moment. He dragged his eyes away from Arthur's, and pulled back, dismayed to discover that he had actually been leaning in closer. Arthur looked more flushed than he had a minute ago, his lips fallen open slightly and his head tilted, almost as if he expected Merlin to kiss him. He cleared his throat as they both looked over to Mordred, who was tossing and turning on the bed. Arthur got up to check on Mordred and as he did so, his hand pressed Merlin's thigh briefly, spreading warmth that radiated clear up to Merlin's cock.

"Is he okay?" Merlin croaked.

Arthur inspected the boy. "I'm not sure. He seemed like he was drunk, but who knows if he was on something else too. I don't see any obvious injuries. We need to wake him up and figure out what we're going to do." He shook Mordred's shoulder. "Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

"Wha?" Mordred said groggily, starting to come to. Lance got him a Coke and after a few minutes, he seemed like he was okay. Arthur asked him if he wanted them to call the police and he again insisted that he didn't. It turned out that he was only eighteen and had been in a series of gay bars that night, drinking, and he didn't want his parents to find out. He called a friend who was coming to pick him up.

"Are you sure you feel okay to go home?" Arthur put an arm around his shoulder.

Mordred nodded, snuggling into Arthur's arm again. "I'd rather stay here with you though," he said, smiling sweetly. Merlin rolled his eyes, thinking he must feel fine if he was able to flirt.

Arthur looked embarrassed, but didn't budge his arm. "I'll take him downstairs and make sure he gets home safely," he said. "Come on, let's go," he said, pulling Mordred up off the bed, and guiding him towards the door with a hand on his back.

Merlin ruefully tamped the small flare of resentment that Mordred got to be manhandled by Arthur.

After Arthur and Mordred left, Lance closed the door behind them, and leaned his back against it, looking at Merlin. "Dude, you have the biggest crush on him, don't you?"

Merlin put his head in hands and groaned.

~~~~

It was Arthur that got them through the group singing round of Hollywood Week. Auditioning alone was hard enough, but a group audition after only a couple of days of rehearsal was an exquisite form of torture. Some of the singers in their group weren't that experienced, Merlin suspected. They didn't inspire much confidence. Singing in a group, you had to give up any notion of control. One person singing off key or missing his or her cue could throw them all off. And if this performance went badly, everyone's chance to move ahead in the contest would be jeopardized.

Merlin was determined that his way was the best. He and Arthur argued endlessly about how to interpret the song. If Merlin thought they should alternate the lead vocal, Arthur said no, it should be one person. If Merlin suggested the key of F, Arthur said it should be in C, and so on.

"Really, Merlin, don't be ridiculous. If men were intended to sing a high C, we wouldn't have testosterone. I'm not singing it in falsetto," Arthur scoffed.

"Some of us have naturally high voices," Merlin said, a tad defensively. High C was totally in his range.

Traditionally, each group gave itself a name. Arthur thought it would be hilarious if they called themselves "Team Camelot." Merlin preferred the name "Destiny," but the others said that would just make people think of Beyoncé. Since they were a bunch of white guys, one of whom was 300 pounds and 6' 5", that was probably not the right direction to go in.

And so it went, back and forth, a constant volley of insults and arguments between the two of them as they tussled over the details of the group audition. Ultimately, however, the others were swayed by Arthur. They ended up following all his advice. Merlin attributed it to the chiseled jaw, as he gritted his teeth and tried to push away his irritation. He just hoped Arthur knew what he was doing. At this point, he didn't have any choice but to trust him.

~~~

"Can I buy you soda?" Arthur offered as Merlin was putting coins in the soda machine at the studio.

"Um," Merlin looked at the coins in his hand. "I only need a dime."

Arthur grinned and fished one out of his pocket and put it in the slot. It pinged down into the machine. "There."

"Big spender." Merlin smirked as he pulled the can out.

Arthur snorted. "Yeah."

Things seemed to have thawed between them since the Mordred incident. They butted heads over how to handle the group audition, but now there was more teasing and fewer hostile barbs. Their musical disagreements didn't mean they couldn't be friends.

Arthur leaned against the machine as Merlin took a sip of his soda. "Listen, let me buy you a real drink some time."

Merlin spluttered his drink and started coughing.

"You okay?" Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah…just…went down the wrong way." Merlin gasped.

"Um, well." Arthur cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say...sorry about how I acted at the beginning. I was an asshole." Arthur averted his gaze and clenched his jaw. "Sometimes I, well..." His voice faded away. He looked Merlin straight in the face. "I hope we can be friends." He held out his hand.

Merlin hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath to get his bearings. Arthur looked sincere. "Okay. Yeah, we're good," he said, shaking Arthur's hand, big and warm. "I don't want you to get a big head or anything, because you already have one of those, but I think you're really good." Merlin grinned. "I can't wait to hear you sing a whole song on your own." He chuckled. Their hands lingered just a fraction of a moment longer than was appropriate for a handshake.

"Thanks," said Arthur. "Hopefully I'll get the chance." They looked at each other and there was an awkward silence. Arthur put his hands in his pockets. "You're pretty good too, for someone who divides their attention between singing and an instrument. Your high C is impressive. Sure you haven't had something cut out down there?" He gestured to Merlin's crotch with a little laugh.

"Why? Do you want to inspect me and find out?" Merlin flushed. Where was that brain to mouth filter when you needed it? He remembered how they had looked at each other in the stadium line. He hadn't thought about that in awhile; it seemed like a long time ago.

Arthur's face was an attractive pink. "Merlin. I have no interest in what's underneath your cheap Walmart jeans. God forbid." But the way his eyes went right to Merlin's crotch belied his words.

Merlin's stomach tingled, then he realized what Arthur had said. "I told you, I don't shop at Walmart."

"Okay, okay." Arthur put his hands up. "Thrift store, then."

"You know you can get some pretty good clothes at thrift stores," Merlin added cheerily, plucking at his Powder Puff Girls t-shirt. "I could take you to my favorite stores some time. Save you a bundle."

"You really are a cheap date, Merlin."

"Oh, so now we're going on a date?"

Arthur scowled at him. "That's not what I meant," and went after him like he was going to tackle him, but Merlin wriggled out of his grasp, laughing.

"Well, I have another idea. We could practice together," Arthur said, scuffing his boot on the floor, then looking Merlin in the eye.

Merlin's blood suddenly thudded drum-like in his veins. Jesus Christ, of course. "Sure. That would be great. I'd like that. Do you play the guitar?"

"Enough to get by. I'm sure if I practiced, I could be as good as you though." Arthur's mouth was turned up in a smile now.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Bring it. We can jam."

"Tonight?"

"Erm, my friend Gwen's coming over for awhile, but she probably wouldn't mind hanging out while we play. She's great. You'll like her."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll catch up with you then."

Before they parted, Arthur said, "So, um, Gwen, is she your girlfriend? I mean, I don't want to intrude."

Merlin laughed. "Oh god, no. We're just friends. I think she wanted to be, before she met Lance."

Arthur nodded. "There's this girl, Sophia. She's really more like a little sister to me, but everyone thinks she's my girlfriend. I think sometimes even she does." He frowned. "Contrary to all evidence."

"Oh." Once again, Merlin was getting all kinds of not-so-straight vibes from Arthur. Apparently the tabloids were wrong and he wasn't really going out with Sophia after all. Maybe there was a chance? His eye flitted almost unconsciously over Arthur's body, taking in the leather and the tattoos, the smooth tan skin and taut muscles. He hoped he could get some private time soon because he now he sure had some "tension" that needed to be relieved and it didn't have anything to do with the contest. "Well, yeah. It's no problem, just come on over."

~~~

The night had been exactly what Merlin needed. He'd been missing Gwen; it felt strange to be going through all this without her around. When she got to his hotel room, she gave him a big hug and a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers.

Lance was wary around Arthur at first, knowing his prickly demeanor. But Arthur put on a charm offensive, all twinkly eyes and dry witticisms. When he threw in a few vaguely seductive stretches and flexed muscles, Merlin had to consciously try not to gawk too obviously.

The highlight of the evening was the music. Arthur was competent on rhythm guitar, and Lance doodled around on his little keyboard. With Merlin playing lead guitar, they had a blast going through their favorite songs, making up three-part harmonies and taking turns with the solos. Merlin was worried that Arthur would be hyper-competitive, but he proved to be surprisingly cooperative and a lot of fun. Even Gwen, who had always joked that the government paid her not to sing, got caught up in the moment, joining in on a few Beatles standards. It turned out that Arthur had almost every Beatles song memorized; he admitted that he had been obsessed with them for a few years as a child.

They talked about what songs they'd like to perform on the show. Arthur said he hoped there'd be an opportunity for him to sing _Angel_ by Sarah McLachlan.

"It's not the usual kind of thing I sing, but that would make it even more compelling, I think," he said, leaning back on his elbows on the bed. "No one will expect it." He took a sip of water. "I love the lyrics."

"Do you want to sing it for us right now?" Merlin asked. "Do you know the chords? I can play with you." He was sitting in an armchair across from the bed.

"Um, well," Arthur hesitated.

"Come on," Merlin encouraged him. "I love that song too." He started picking out some chords and gave Arthur what he hoped was a charming smile.

A slow smile spread across Arthur's face. "Okay, why not?" He gave Merlin the chords and they started feeling their way into the song. Arthur's voice, which could be low and gravelly and sexy as hell on a rock blues number, transformed into something clear and pure, full of wistful longing.

 _Spend all your time waiting  
For that second chance  
For a break that would make it okay  
There's always one reason  
To feel not good enough  
And it's hard at the end of the day_

Merlin's lighter tenor joined him on the chorus, harmonizing above.

 _In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear_

By the time they hit the chorus the second time, the room was very still. Lance and Gwen sat listening quietly, his hand combing through her long curls as she rested her head on his shoulder. Merlin and Arthur's voices blended beautifully, in perfect balance, as they sang of yearning and solitude, want and comfort. Euphoria spread through Merlin like warm butter, as his voice vibrated through his chest and poured out his mouth in a smooth cascade of sound. They looked into each other's eyes as they sang, blue on blue, wordlessly communicating through the rhythm and the chord changes, the ups and downs of the melody. Arthur's eyes closed slightly when they got to those little turns in the melody that needed extra emphasis and he swayed into them, transported.

As the song ended and his hands fell away from the strings, Merlin felt himself trying to capture the moment, the feeling of being completely as one making beautiful music. Struck again by Arthur's attractiveness, he tried to memorize the cast of his features, the bend of his torso, the way his hair fell across his forehead as he sang.

His reverie ended when Gwen clapped her hands exuberantly. "That was wonderful! Guys, you have to do that on the show. Can you? Is there any way?"

"Yeah, that was beautiful," Lance agreed.

"Well, it depends on what kind of songs they want," Merlin said, looking at Arthur, who appeared slightly stunned. Merlin was afraid he looked equally dazed. Arthur didn't meet his eye right away – he was looking down, picking at the seam of his jeans. Merlin put his guitar down carefully and went to sit next to Arthur on the bed, not wanting to let go of the connection they'd just formed, needing to be as close to him as possible.

Arthur didn't move away when Merlin sat down right next to him, even though their thighs were touching and their knees grazing. When Arthur finally looked up at him, it was with a gaze of rapt expectation, his eyes wide and welcoming. Merlin stared, riveted. He swallowed over a big lump in his throat and seemed to lose all sensation in his limbs, like he was floating.

Neither of them said anything as they studied each other intently. Merlin's breath came faster as he became aware of the warm press of Arthur's hard, muscled thigh against his own. He couldn't stand it anymore – nerves jangling, he laid his hand on Arthur's. Arthur turned his palm upwards and grasped Merlin's hand, still looking deeply into Merlin's eyes. _Thank God._

"I like singing with you," Arthur said softly.

"Me too." Merlin sighed a little and ventured a slight squeeze with his hand.

"We need to do it again." Arthur said, leaning toward Merlin.

"Yeah," Merlin breathed, as their faces came within a hair's breadth of each other.

"I hope you tune your guitar better the next time," Arthur said, as he closed the gap and pressed his lips softly against Merlin's, sweet and pliant.

Merlin moved his lips against Arthur's, hungry for the taste of him. "You were a little flat on the A at the end," he murmured. To finally feel those lips against his…it was bliss. He slipped his tongue between them, just a touch, before the sound of giggling reminded him that Gwen and Lance were just a few feet away. He pulled away, breathless.

Oh god, it was like college all over again. No privacy.

Arthur cupped his face. "Probably better get going. Big day tomorrow." He squeezed Merlin's hand. "I'll give you a call." He leaned over and kissed Merlin chastely on the cheek before heading out the door.

Merlin touched his cheek where Arthur had kissed it, the feeling of his warm lips still buzzing on his skin, his taste lingering on his tongue. He felt like he was in a dream, caught in a swirl of heightened emotion, the memory of Arthur's blissful expression as he sang still vivid in his mind. The way his voice had flawlessly blended with Arthur's, his fingers intuitively forming the next chord, knowing exactly where Arthur was going with the song before he even went there. It was thrilling, if a bit eerie. That connection was worth any amount of effort to discover the real Arthur underneath that entrancing exterior.

~~~

The group audition preparations continued apace. Merlin and Arthur tried to play it cool when they were around the other singers. But whenever they took a break, they found themselves gravitating toward each other, sitting close together, arms brushing, thighs occasionally pressing together, leaning their heads in to talk softly.

During rehearsal, Arthur would lay his hand on Merlin's arm to make a point and it was like a brand marking his skin, the touch stirring Merlin's blood and making him flush embarrassingly. If the others noticed, they didn't say anything. He suspected that his feelings were clearly emblazoned on his face. He could barely take his eyes off Arthur, mesmerized by his hand movements, the flex of muscles in his forearms, and the curl of his hair on the back of his neck.

Over a few beers one night, Arthur explained how he decided to go into music. When he was in college, he found the old videotapes and cassettes of his mother's performances that his father had hidden away after her death. He was majoring in business, encouraged by his father, and singing in his limited spare time. He stayed up all night watching his mother's performances. It brought back ancient memories of watching his mother from backstage, caught up in the excitement and buzz of a live performance. He'd idolized his mother – she was so beautiful when she sang, Arthur said. It was that night when he realized that his true dream was to follow in her footsteps, to fulfill the promise that had been so cruelly snatched away with her death.

There was a gleam in his eye when he talked about it; his face was transformed. Merlin had never been so attracted to him as in that moment.

Merlin shared the story of his guitar, his only connection to his father, and how he liked to think there was something of his father's spirit in the instrument. It spoke to him in private moments.

Arthur put his hand on his, eyes shining. "Guess we have something in common there."

~~~

The group audition came off spectacularly. Merlin had to credit Arthur – he had the right instincts. Maybe it was in his blood after all. When they finished, all the judges were beaming at them, even Aredian and Catrina. They'd been particularly complimentary of Merlin and Arthur's duet section, and Merlin had to agree that it had gone really well, much better than the other members of their group, who struggled to remain in key.

From then on, the contest was like a roller coaster ride. They got on and were strapped in, no choice but to ride it until it stopped, with all the stomach-curdling ups and downs in between. The difference was, on a roller coaster, you knew where the end was and you could see the route that would get you there. On _You're the Voice_ , no one knew who was going get thrown off the show, when, or how. Every week was a crapshoot, with the fickle American public throwing the dice.

Merlin told himself he could keep it together until the end, whenever that came. He kept tight hold of the belief that he could win. Even when he watched Arthur sing, a cold fist of fear gripping his heart at the man's abundant talent, he refused to let go of his dream. The flip side was that he genuinely supported Arthur. Perhaps it was a contradiction, but in some respects, there were no losers here. Whatever happened in the end, getting as far as they had was an accomplishment that would garner results, such as bigger name recognition in the music industry.

From the first, Arthur distinguished himself from the pack. He exuded confidence; not a moment of hesitation or doubt, no wobbling notes or half-hearted moves. He was totally and fully present in each performance. He was so damned good, every one of the judges praised him lavishly each week. One week, one of the judges pulled back on the praise just a tad, questioning his song choice, but that was about it. Every week, it was, "powerful performance", or "you blew it out of the box", or "wow, you've got pipes!" The camera would cut to Arthur attempting to hold back a pleased smirk and not quite succeeding. After the first time, Merlin told him he needed to look less smug.

Merlin was pleased with his performances. The judges gave him fair marks and he stayed right in the middle of the pack as far as audience votes. But one judge, Catrina, seemed to have something against him. He was never good enough for her. She complained his voice was weedy and off-key (it wasn't), that his outfit made him look like he'd just gotten out of bed. His hair needed help and he was far too skinny, according to her. He grew to expect her sour look as soon as he stepped on stage. He and Lance dubbed her "the troll" for her grumpy disposition.

But the audience's favorite was Lance. Lance was friendly and self-effacing, with a beautiful smile full of white teeth, and when he sang, it was with a pure sound that lifted you right off your feet. At this point, the show labeled each contestant with a one-line bio, such as "the one who grew up on a farm in Wisconsin," or "the determined single mom from Arkansas." In Lance's case, it was "the former seminary student" and that was all middle America needed.

~~~

During a break from the show, Arthur and Merlin escaped to a café down the street from the studio. Standing in line to give their orders, Merlin felt Arthur's hand nudge his. He curled his fingers into Arthur's and bumped their shoulders together. Then he leaned his head on Arthur's sturdy shoulder.

"Tired?" Arthur asked.

"Exhausted," Merlin replied, lifting his head as they shuffled forward in the line. "But I love it."

Arthur rubbed Merlin's back. "Me too."

Merlin preened under Arthur's overt attentions. With the constant pressure and activity of the contest, there wasn't really time to go out and do the things they would normally have done to get to know each other better. And having roommates didn't help the situation. There just hadn't been an opportunity to be alone in private.

"Do you think...," Merlin hesitated, not sure whether to broach the topic. "Will your father ever come see you perform?" Arthur hadn't spoken to Merlin much about his father, but he'd told him he was against Arthur's music career, without going into too many details. He said his father wanted him to work at his company, behind the scenes rather than on stage.

Arthur sighed. "I'm not sure yet. I hope so. Morgana's working on him." Merlin had yet to meet the infamous Morgana in person, although Arthur often mentioned her. They seemed close.

They gathered their drinks and sat down at a table outside. Merlin slurped at his frozen drink and waited for the caffeine and sugar to work their magic, resting his head on his hand. Arthur gingerly took a sip of his king-sized black coffee. They watched the traffic go by in companionable silence. The heat shimmered over the hazy brown horizon, palm trees lightly swaying above the blare of car horns.

Merlin's gaze followed the line of Arthur's profile, from the hank of blond hair lopping over his brow to his prominent nose and full lips, and he felt a wave of fondness clutch at his heart. He wondered at what point someone could be considered a boyfriend. They hadn't even really gone on a proper date yet.

"Hey." Merlin laid a hand on Arthur's arm stretched on the table. Arthur gave him a lopsided smile.

"Hey. How's your coffee?" He put air quotes around the word. Arthur despaired of Merlin's taste for frothy coffee concoctions.

"Delicious," Merlin licked his lips and smirked. "How's the motor oil?"

"Reviving," Arthur said with an arched eyebrow, as he took another sip.

An idea for a song suddenly popped into Merlin's head, the musical shape fully formed in his head, the lyrics half there as well. His mind seemed to be in overdrive since he'd arrived in LA. Maybe a new environment was good for his creativity.

"Give me your phone," he said to Arthur. Arthur scowled at him. Merlin had started using Arthur's phone to make notes whenever he got an idea. "Come on." Merlin's foot nudged Arthur's.

Arthur handed it over with a resigned expression. "Got an idea?"

"Yep."

"You should get your own."

"When I get the big bucks I will." Merlin was busy typing with his thumbs, brow furrowed in concentration. He'd look up into the sky occasionally and his left hand formed chords in the air as he whispered to himself.

Arthur looked at him with affection then went back to drinking his coffee and watching LA pass by.

"Can I ask you something?" Merlin broke off from his songwriting.

"Go ahead."

"Does your father know? I mean, that you like guys."

Arthur played with the lid of his coffee cup. "It's never come up."

"Uh-huh."

"He assumes things and I don't correct him. Like about Sophia."

Oh yeah, Sophia; the beautiful blonde girl from the stadium tryout line.

"He thinks she's my girlfriend. I let him. It's just easier that way."

"So he really has no idea?"

"I'm not sure. We're not really that close. Things have happened in the past, maybe he knew, maybe he didn't." Arthur studied his coffee cup's environmental messages with sudden fascination.

Merlin couldn't really conceive of a parent who was so distant. He pretty much told his mother everything; she was his rock. She didn't really bat an eye when he told her he was in love with Will. She'd already guessed anyway; she just felt bad that he'd been hurt by Will's rejection. Merlin was starting to get an inkling of what Arthur's life must be like.

"I'm not judging or anything. I mean, everyone's situation is different. It's just…you might feel better if you could be honest with him." Merlin took Arthur's hand.

Arthur looked him in the eye. "Maybe. Maybe later, when this is all over." He squeezed Merlin's hand. "We'll see if he comes to see me perform."

Merlin wondered if Arthur was waiting for that person who was important enough to tell Uther about. He hoped it would be him.

~~~

The semi-finals ground on relentlessly; four contestants ousted each week, two women and two men. The stakes were getting higher as the pool of singers got smaller. Some of them were clearly superior, giving solid performances each week – Arthur, Lance and Merlin were in this group. Others…not so much. They were barely holding on from week to week. Their performances were hit or miss, sometimes completely off key and missing the mark, sometimes squarely hitting the target. Watching these singers made Merlin nervous, since he never knew which way they were going to go that week. He could see the desperate anxiety in their eyes. Merlin wondered if he looked the same.

Three weeks of serious thinning of the ranks and the final twelve contestants were left standing, Merlin, Arthur and Lance among them. Now the pressure would really amp up.

They celebrated with a dinner out at a restaurant that Arthur knew about, promising them they'd never been to anything like it before. Its name was _Bed_ and it had no chairs or tables, just…beds. The wait staff wore nightclothes, the women in skimpy negligees and the men shirtless in pajama bottoms. (One night a week it was drag night, with waiters in the same skimpy negligees normally worn by the women.) The food was comfort food for children, such as hot chocolate, mac and cheese, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and s'mores. Merlin loved it, not least because it gave him an excuse to roll around in bed with Arthur all evening.

Gwen giggled when they entered the restaurant, grabbing Lance's hand and pulling him down onto the bed to which the hostess lead them. Lance somewhat awkwardly stretched out, snorting in amusement. Merlin and Arthur followed suit, Merlin wrapping his arm around Arthur's shoulders and daring to give him a little kiss. Arthur grinned at him and put his hand on Merlin's thigh just as they all rolled towards the middle of the bed as it dipped under their combined weight. Merlin squawked with glee as the pajama-clad waiter came to take their order, finally feeling free of some of the pressure of the last few weeks.

"This place is hilarious!" Gwen squealed. "Why didn't I know about this before?"

Eventually, they figured out how to negotiate dining on a bed without simulating a game of Twister or spilling all their dinner. In the process there was a fair amount of knocking of knees and tangling of limbs, with Merlin ending up falling into Arthur more than once when someone got up to go to the bathroom. His face smushed into Arthur's shoulder, close enough to feel Arthur's warm breath on his cheek. He was momentarily overcome by the heady scent of expensive cologne. Merlin became aware that his hand was clutching at Arthur's back, the black cotton of his shirt cool and smooth under his fingers. Arthur angled his head toward Merlin's, gaze lingering on his mouth, tightening his hold around Merlin's waist, when Lance plonked back down on the bed, upsetting the entire arrangement so Merlin bounced away from Arthur and back towards Lance, Arthur's hand sliding like warm syrup across his lower back.

Arthur chuckled, and Merlin pushed at Lance's shoulder good-naturedly, hazy from a magnetic blue martini that looked exactly like glass cleaner and tasted like candy. His eyes slid back to Arthur's, who gave him a heavy-lidded look as his hand crept slowly up and down his back.

 _Arthur_. For a moment, that's all Merlin thought, as he lost himself in those blue eyes lined with black, Arthur's hand moving possessively on him, marking him. Every place that Arthur touched him was on fire, as if the outline of his hand were burned into his flesh.

After stuffing themselves with grilled cheese sandwiches and fried pickles, along with some more brightly colored drinks, it was time for some dessert. Arthur held out a super-sized s'more towards Merlin, and he darted his tongue out to lick the melting marshmallow and chocolate oozing out of the graham cracker sandwich. "Hmmm," he said. "Delicious."

"Yeah?"

"Here, taste." Merlin gave Arthur an open-mouthed kiss full of sweetness, their lips pushing and pulling against each other, tongues slipping through sugary lightness and bitter chocolate smoothness. He forgot where he was for a moment, lost in his exploration of Arthur's lush mouth, feeling giddy and happy and more alive than he ever had before. Arthur responded fervently, the firm press of his hand on Merlin's back and the urgent seeking of his lips telling of heartfelt emotion.

"Guys!"

Merlin broke off with difficulty, panting, barely able to drag his attention away from Arthur's mouth, swollen and pink, face flushed and cerulean eyes darkened with need. "The cake is here," Lance pointed out. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, smirking.

Merlin felt his face heat and he exchanged a look with Arthur, who shrugged his shoulders and gave him a grin, his hand affectionately draped on the back of Merlin's neck.

They'd ordered birthday cake, a specialty of the house, with a candle for each of them. As they blew out the candles as a group, laughing and sharing goofy, broad smiles all around. Merlin, overcome with happiness, hoped that this thing with Arthur would turn into a real relationship.

~~~

Two weeks into the finals, Lance was eliminated. Everyone was shocked: the judges, the press, and the other contestants. No one could really explain it. He'd wobbled on the last note of his song, but that was about it. It was one of those infamous _You're The Voice_ upsets.

Merlin felt miserable about it. He'd felt sure Lance and Arthur would be duking it out for the number one spot. He hugged Lance after he packed up, and they made promises to stay in touch. Lance was staying in LA; several agents were interested in him and he'd even been offered a role in a soap opera, of all things. Gwen was there and the three of them embraced, sniffling.

"This isn't the end, Lance," Merlin said, eyes shining with tears. "You're going to be a star one day, I know it. That vote was some weird aberration. You are really talented. Remember what all the judges said about you, week after week?"

Lance snorted, "Yeah. So much for getting a big head, huh?"

Merlin clasped him on the shoulder. "See you soon, okay?"

Lance pulled him in for another rough hug. "Dude."

Gwen gave Merlin a half-hearted smile, said she'd call him, and the two of them left for Lance's new place.

Now it was up to Merlin and Arthur to carry on.

Needing to touch base, Merlin punched Arthur's number into the hotel landline. He got hold of Arthur, but he was out and was going to be busy the rest of the day. He was trying to put together an outfit for the next show and he was having trouble finding the exact thing he wanted. As a result, he was traipsing all over West LA and checking out every tiny shop and boutique that might have what he wanted.

"Can't you take a break?" Merlin whined, feeling peevish and needy with Lance and Gwen gone.

"Merlin, I've got to get this done. You know that. And it's got to be perfect. Just because you pick your show outfits based on whatever t-shirt and jeans you find on your floor – well, my outfit is crucial." He broke off and Merlin could hear him talking to someone. "Plus I have to get my hair cut and a manicure and… Listen, I just got a lead on a new store off of La Cienega – gotta run. I'll see you later, though. I wanna show you what I got."

Merlin hung up the phone with a sigh. Within moments, there was a knock on the door: his new roommate. So much for having a room to himself and a chance to be alone with Arthur. It wasn't even one of the people he liked. Shit. This day was just not going well. He went off to find somewhere to practice. May as well focus on the contest like Arthur was.

~~~

In the next couple of weeks, Merlin tried to concentrate his energy on his performances. The competition was getting really tight now, with fewer and fewer contestants left. He needed to be the best he could be. Arthur was doing the same, focused like a laser on rehearsals and costumes. When they grabbed a moment together between their various responsibilities – shooting commercials, press interviews, rehearsals with each week's guest, on top of the usual prep for the weekly shows - they were both distracted. The contest was so all consuming, they had little energy left for anything else.

Arthur was considered the front-runner now that Lance was out. The press was having a field day with him, what with his family background and his glam image. The show tried to keep strict tabs on the contestants' interactions with the press – it was in their contract – but the past was fair game.   
The internet was run amok with that famous photo of Arthur as a toddler with his mother and a more current photo of him and Sophia leaving a nightclub a few months before. There was much speculation about Uther and why he hadn't showed up at any of the _You're The Voice_ shows yet, and whether Arthur and Sophia were engaged.

Wherever Arthur went now, there were paparazzi tailing him. He'd go to a nail salon to get his trademark black polish re-done and he'd come out to be greeted by several cameras and reporters rushing in to interview the salon staff. _What magazines did Arthur read? Did he talk on the phone? Who was he talking to?_

Now when Merlin and Arthur went to their usual café, a rare chance to relax together over a coffee, they had to sit at a table way at the back and out of view of the window in order to avoid the press. It was ridiculous.

Merlin remembered the night at _Bed_ and was relieved there had been no cameras following them then.

They weren't trying to hide exactly. But both of them were pragmatic enough to realize that the show wouldn't be happy with them if the public found out they were an item. Two male contestants dating didn't exactly mesh with the all-American family image _You're The Voice_ tried to convey.

Not to mention Arthur wasn't particularly anxious for his father to find out. This was something they needed to talk about in private; the last thing he wanted was for his father to open the paper one morning to see his son kissing another man. So in public, he and Merlin were more careful than they had been. It was hard though, since they were so rarely alone. Merlin made do with discretely hooking his pinkie through Arthur's while they waited in line and sitting a little bit closer than mere friends. Later, they shared a quick kiss in the men's room, but it just left them both aching and frustrated.

"Arthur," Merlin said, hand on his chest as Arthur leaned back against the wall, Merlin's other arm wrapped around him, their legs twined together. "I'm wondering whether we should cool it until after the contest is over. I just…this is really hard. I need to focus on the contest. And I don't even know what this means, where we are."

Arthur heaved a sigh and looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah, this is kind of weird, with the contest going on and all." He cradled Merlin's face with his hand, then swept it back through Merlin's dark hair, gazing into his eyes. "But I wouldn't change a thing."

"I really like you too, really I do," Merlin said, "but everything is so surreal right now. What's going to happen when the contest is over? You're going to go back to your fancy life with limos and an entourage. And I might be back to making donuts and serving lousy coffee."

"Well, right, it's not like you're any good or anything." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Idiot. That's not going to happen. No matter who wins, you've made it into the final twelve. I'm sure you're going to get a recording contract. You're a fantastic musician."

Merlin's mouth quirked. "Maybe. I'm just not sure I can trust _this_ though." He stroked Arthur's chest. "Will you want to be with me if I don't get a recording contract?" He couldn't look at Arthur's eyes, feeling vulnerable and foolish, but needing to hear his answer.

Arthur pulled him closer. "Don't be ridiculous." He pulled Merlin's chin up. "I need you to keep me from being too much of a pompous ass," he said with a grin, before tenderly kissing Merlin on the lips. "Even if you're making donuts, all covered in powdered sugar." He chuckled. "Mmmm, I like that idea. Just ditch the show altogether."

Relieved, Merlin melted into Arthur, not wanting to let go. He opened his lips wide in a heartfelt kiss as Arthur's tongue softly pressed against his.

"Oh! Sorry!" A middle-aged man with a shaved head and trendy glasses said as he came into the bathroom and hurried over to the urinals. "Get a room, why don't you?" he muttered derisively.

"Oh, crap," Merlin sprang away from Arthur, incredibly embarrassed.

"Shit," Arthur mumbled. They practically tripped over each other trying to get out the door.

This contest couldn't be over too soon.

~~~

Over the next couple of weeks, things seemed to turn around for Merlin. He had been comfortably in the middle of the pack from the beginning, never ending up in the bottom three. The judges were mostly positive, except for Caterina, of course. The press so far hadn't paid particular attention to him; he didn't stand out like Arthur. But starting with his performance of _I Can't Make You Love Me_ , originally sung by Bonnie Raitt, he was suddenly in the running for the top spot.

The theme that night was country. He was stretching it a bit with Bonnie Raitt, but he'd always loved that song. He'd been working on the guitar part awhile, and when they found out that week's theme, he decided to go for it.

 _Turn down the lights, turn down the bed  
Turn down these voices inside my head   
Lay down with me, tell me no lies   
Just hold me close, don't patronize - don't patronize me_

Cause I can't make you love me if you don't  
You can't make your heart feel something it won't  
Here in the dark, in these final hours  
I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power  
But you won't, no you won't  
'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't

Naturally, the song made him think of Will. He let the old feelings well up to express the song's soft yearning, supported by the gentle swelling of the melody and the guitar's cascading arpeggios. He forgot the audience of thousands in the theater, and the millions watching on TV, as he sang a bittersweet goodbye to his first, unrequited love.

As the last chords faded, the audience exploded in applause, bringing Merlin abruptly back to reality. The judges blinked in astonishment, and Merlin just sat on his stool, beaming, arm hanging loose over the front of his guitar.

Sneaking a peak backstage, Merlin saw Arthur giving him a thumbs-up and a broad smile. He felt a surge of pride.

The reviews the next day were all about Merlin: "laid-back songster triumphs"; "mellow Merlin takes the cake," and last but not least, "Wherefore art thou, Arthur?"

In the public relations battle, there could only be one winner. If Merlin won the week that meant Arthur lost, at least according to the press. Everyone had gotten accustomed to Arthur's stunning performances. So when he turned in one that was less than spectacular, on top of Merlin wowing the nation for the first time, the takeaway was that Arthur was on a downswing.

~~~

"Gwen, it was awful." Merlin was on the phone to her the next night, after the results show, stretched out on his bed. Shockingly, Arthur had ended up in the bottom three. He wasn't eliminated, but during that moment when the emcee told Arthur to walk over to the bottom three group, Merlin had felt his stomach drop. To the audience, Arthur looked completely in control, smiling politely and taking the hands of the other two in the bottom. But Merlin could see the signs of stress, as Arthur's jaw tightened and his stance grew erect. It took just a few minutes for the emcee to announce the eliminated contestants, but it felt like decades. "I just kept thinking, please don't eliminate him, please don't eliminate him. I really couldn't believe he was out."

"I know, but look what happened to Lance," Gwen pointed out. "The American public is fickle."

"I know, I know," Merlin said, feeling his loyalty divided. "I was so relieved when they announced the other two names and not Arthur's." Of course, he'd felt bad for the people who were eliminated, but the overwhelming feeling was one of relief for Arthur. He suddenly jumped up and pranced about his room, as far as the phone cord would allow. "Ow, toe cramp!" He walked around his hotel room, bending his sole. "He didn't want to go out to dinner," Merlin continued.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah." Merlin sighed. They had talked about going to dinner after the show, but when Merlin went to his room to pick him up, Arthur begged off. He wouldn't meet Merlin's eyes and it was all very awkward. Arthur didn't even invite him into his room, just stood at the door. Merlin asked him if he was sure, suggested maybe he shouldn't be alone, but Arthur was adamant. At the last, he curled a hand around Merlin's neck and kissed him chastely, just a peck, really. Then he told him good night, and that he'd call him in the morning.

"I don't know what to do, Gwen. What if this is it? I mean, we decided to keep things cool during the contest, but if he can't handle this situation, what's going to happen if I actually win?" He dared to say it. "I'm afraid this isn't going to work." He flopped back down on the bed, flinging a hand over his forehead in despair.

"Well, this is an unusual situation. You're both really stressed out and you're in competition with each other. Try not to worry about it and just see how things go. You've got to focus on the contest," Gwen said, trying to make Merlin stay on an even keel.

"You're right. I can't get preoccupied by this. I feel terrible about what happened tonight, but he's still in it. He didn't get eliminated. And I need to think about what's best for me." Merlin knew it would be hard. He really liked Arthur, and he did have a bad habit of putting others' needs before his own, but this was his life they were discussing. _His dream._ He couldn't give up on it just because he liked somebody.  
"If it's meant to be, you'll be there for each other after this is all over."

Merlin hoped she was right, because there was a part of him breaking inside at the very thought of losing Arthur before they had even had a chance to make this work.

~~~

For the next performance, Arthur had something up his sleeve, but was vague about his plans. Merlin had no idea whether it was because Arthur now saw him as a threat or for some other reason. In any case, Arthur was keeping more of a distance. He didn't come right up to Merlin in rehearsals or call him first thing in the morning; he seemed to be leaving things up to Merlin. Merlin didn't like it, but he hoped it was a temporary phase and he tried to give Arthur some space. He sensed that Arthur was intensely focusing on the contest and tried not to take it personally.

This week's theme was Sinatra. Merlin was sure Arthur had some crazy, brilliant idea. He was annoyed that he didn't want to share it with him, but he understood. At least, until he barged into a practice room that Arthur was using. Arthur was sitting at a keyboard, fiddling around with drumbeats and chords and making notes. The two large coffee cups on a nearby table and the way Arthur's hair stuck up every which way, as if he'd been running his hands through it over and over, were a clear sign of a long and sleepless night.

"Arthur." Merlin walked a few feet into the room. Arthur tapped some buttons on the keyboard and didn't seem to hear. Merlin came closer. "Arthur." He said it louder, touching Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur jerked and dropped his pen.

"Merlin. I didn't hear you." He picked up his pen and went back to making some notes.

"I can see that," Merlin said, amused. "I was looking for a practice space."

"Well, this one's taken," Arthur said and started to go back to his work. Merlin's stomach clenched at the peremptory dismissal. He stood there for a few minutes, unsure.

"Is…" his throat seemed thick all of a sudden and he had trouble getting the words out. "Is everything all right?" He glanced at Arthur's notes, full of scratch-outs and indecipherable scribbling. Arthur noticed and grabbed the paper away, holding it against his chest. Oh for god's sake, Merlin thought. He couldn't even read it.

"It's fine, Merlin, I'm just in the middle of this." Arthur's face was closed off, unwelcoming.

Merlin's chest felt like it was developing a small hole and all the hope was leaking out of it. "Yeah, okay. How's it going, anyway?" He couldn't help trying to find a way in, giving an awkward little smile.

Arthur gave him a level look. "Good."

Merlin waited, hoping he would say more.

"Well. I need to keep working on this." Arthur clearly wanted him to leave.

Merlin fidgeted, not wanting to let it go and feeling ticked off. "I know you're focused on your song, and I don't want to distract you, but I thought we were at least friends, and that I could at least rely on you to be pleasant to me."

Arthur looked at him with a long-suffering expression. "Merlin, I don't have time for this. If you'll excuse me," he said, "I've got work to do." He turned back to his papers and started picking at the keyboard again.

Merlin glared at him, feeling his heart pound with righteous indignation. "Fine!" He turned on his heel and slammed the door on the way out for good measure.

He fumed as he stalked down the hallway. God, he'd been an idiot for thinking Arthur would think of anyone but himself in a crunch. He'd been counting on Arthur's support and now he felt left in the lurch, like his date didn't show up for the prom. Worse yet, like he'd been forgotten entirely.

~~~

Almost twenty-four hours went by before Merlin saw Arthur again. That was eons in _You're The Voice_ time. Whenever thoughts of Arthur surfaced, he pushed them down ruthlessly and refocused on preparing his own material. Arthur was driven – so was he. It was better this way. They were so close to the end; he couldn't afford to get sidetracked by his emotions. Nor did he want to distract Arthur and get in the way of his preparations. They both need to focus. As usual, Merlin realized he was wasting precious energy over-analyzing again. He needed to _get over himself,_ as Gwen was always saying.

 

Nonetheless, his heart hammered in his chest when he literally ran into Arthur in a studio hallway, sending Arthur's papers flying and Merlin's frozen coffee drink to the floor in a slushy cascade.

"Oh. Hi." Merlin stood there paralyzed while sticky mocha froth dripped down his wrist.

Arthur looked surprised. "Merlin. Where have you been? Sleeping in a park somewhere? You're never in your room when I need you." He seemed tense and agitated.

What the fuck? Suddenly Arthur "needed" him after practically kicking Merlin out of the rehearsal room?

"I've been around. Working on my songs." Wary, he studied Arthur for clues as to where he was coming from.

"Yeah? How's it going?" Arthur asked, looking closely at Merlin. Maybe he was over his little hissy fit.

"Pretty good, actually," Merlin said, venturing a small smile. Arthur proceeded to ask him several questions about his songs and even made some helpful suggestions. Merlin felt himself relax.   
Perhaps he had been worried over nothing.

"How about you? Did you get enough alone time?" he asked somewhat derisively.

Arthur blew out a breath and put his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, I'm sorry about the way I've been this week." He ran his hands down Merlin's sides. Merlin flinched but he didn't try to get away from Arthur's hands as they settled above his hips. "I was really happy for you when your performance went over so well last week. You know that." Arthur squeezed his waist.

Merlin was quiet and still under his gaze, gathering his thoughts. Arthur's hands were warm through his shirt.

"The results really threw me, though, being in the bottom three," Arthur continued. "And I didn't think my performance was as good as it should have been either. I was slacking off and I need to really focus this week. I hope you understand that," he said softly, pulling Merlin into an embrace.

Merlin was stiff and unresponsive at first, but Arthur's words seemed sincere and it felt so good to have his arms around him. He soon found himself returning the embrace, snaking his arms around Arthur's solid back.

Arthur buried his nose in Merlin's hair with a shivery sigh and tightened his arms. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I understand." Merlin nuzzled his face against Arthur's cheek. "We need to keep our focus. But no matter who wins, we'll both be winners," he said, kissing Arthur's ear and inhaling his scent.

"You're right," Arthur said. "We just have to get through this and do our best. If there's anything you need, just let me know. I'm here for you."

 

Arthur pulled back to look Merlin in the face. "My father called," he said.

"Really?"

"He's coming to the finale, if I'm still in it. He was impressed by how far I've gotten." A little smile snuck across Arthur's features.

"Oh, Arthur. I'm so glad." Merlin squeezed him tight.

Arthur held Merlin's face and said, "I hate to say it, but I have to get back to work."

"Me too."

"Maybe we can, you know, have dinner or something later." Arthur rubbed Merlin's back affectionately, before rolling his hips into Merlin's. Merlin tried not to groan when he felt Arthur's obvious arousal grind into him. He snuck a look down the hallway to make sure no one was coming.

"Or something?" Merlin snickered. "I thought we agreed no somethings until this is all over."

" _Mer_ \- lin," Arthur whined, his hand falling to cup Merlin's ass. God, that felt good. Merlin's eyelids lowered for a moment at the pleasurable touch. But he needed to keep a clear head and they'd agreed. Merlin had to adjust himself before he walked away, wondering if his blue balls were going to make to the end of the competition intact.

~~~

Sinatra Night was a complete success for both Merlin and Arthur. Arthur came through as promised with a unique take on _Old Devil Moon_ , an old jazz standard he repurposed as a world beat number, Latin rhythms mingling with African-influenced guitar. It provided plenty of opportunities for Arthur to soar up to his high notes. Sinatra was probably rolling over in his grave, but the judges were brimming with praise. Even Nancy Sinatra gave it her blessing in the press the next day.

Coincidentally, Merlin took a similar route with _Fly Me To The Moon_. His rendition was spare, featuring just him and his guitar, with an upbeat, Jose Feliciano-type gloss, just some bongos behind. It wasn't a production number like Arthur's, but it was an interesting interpretation and he got to show off his guitar-playing chops.

After a day of anxious worrying, the results were announced: the final three were Merlin, Arthur, and a guy everyone had written off in the semi-finals, but who somehow kept surviving: a goofy looking white kid named Mitch, who had dirty blond dreadlocks and always wore a suit.

~~~

Later that week, a new photo of Arthur went viral. From the depths of Arthur's adolescence, someone had dug up a photo of him, gangly and spotty but already with his usual eyeliner, kissing a boy with curly brown hair. The photo was remarkably clear, given that it was taken at a party. It was obvious that it was a real open-mouthed kiss, not just goofing around with a friend. Their eyes were closed and their arms were tight around each other. Arthur's hair was short, cut in a more traditional style than it was now, so you could see his face clearly. It was undeniably him.

"Oh, Arthur," Merlin said, when he found out. He felt bad, but at the same time, oddly jealous of the boy in the photograph. He wished he had met someone like Arthur when he was a teenager.

Arthur wasn't surprised. "I told you things had happened. I didn't know there were any photos," he said, frowning. He confessed to Merlin how he had dealt with his sexual confusion as a teen. He always had a girlfriend – what girl wouldn't want to go out with Arthur Pendragon? – but all he could think about was boys. He'd go to parties and obsessively look for a boy to seduce, devoting all his energy to the task until the boy succumbed. Then they'd disappear to make out for the rest of the night. His friends still joked about the ridiculous lengths they went to cover for him with his girlfriends, how they had to pull him out of the arms of random boys when it was time to go. "It wasn't any secret, but it was only at parties. Not at school or anywhere else. Everyone understood that I didn't want my father to know. I just couldn't deal with his disappointment."

"Oh, Arthur," Merlin said again. That seemed unbearably sad. "What about your girlfriends?"

"I'm really good at giving oral sex," Arthur said matter-of-factly. "So they tended to overlook the boy stuff. Some of them wanted to watch, actually." He chuckled. "I think they got off on it."

Merlin was momentarily thrown off by the combined images of Arthur giving oral sex to a girl and kissing boys while girls watched. His pants felt tight, and he cleared his throat. "So, um, you never had a boyfriend?"

"Not really, no." Arthur looked wistful. "There was one guy I used to have over to my house, though. Dan. He was the only boy I had over besides my regular friends. My father thought we were watching movies. Which we were, but we were doing plenty of other stuff too, if you know what I mean." He didn't elaborate. "I think I was in love with him," he added, looking pensive. "But we never went out, officially. I just wasn't ready for that. As far as I know, my father never found out what was going on."

Merlin took Arthur's hand and told him about Will and Freya; how he hadn't been with anyone for a while. He didn't say anything about his mother's unquestioning acceptance. "Maybe your father will be fine with it.

Arthur blew out a breath. "Maybe. I don't know." His mouth settled into a thin, tight line. "He won't like that picture plastered all over the place. He worries about me, you know, about crazies coming after me." Arthur had never really talked to Merlin about his mother. Her presence hovered silently above the conversation; Merlin rubbed his thumb comfortingly over Arthur's hand.

"He's got to trust you at a certain point; he has to let you live your own life."

"You don't know my father. He doesn't let things go that easily."

"Well, at least he's coming to the show. That's a first step."

"Yeah." Arthur looked hopeful.

~~~

Arthur and Merlin decided to treat the last two weeks not as a contest, but as a series of concerts featuring the two of them. They agreed that it didn't matter who took the number one spot; they were both winners and they would simply do their best and try to enjoy the remaining performances. Accordingly, they helped each other prepare, bouncing ideas off each other and critiquing rehearsals. They worked so well together, they should have been doing it all along. It was like that first time they'd jammed back with Lance. With Arthur's input, Merlin came up with stuff he'd never have thought of on his own and vice versa. The two of them fit, as if they'd been made to perform together.

"So, how do I look?" Arthur modeled his show outfit for the second to last performance show, holding his arms out and spinning around.

He took Merlin's breath away. He wore a sleeveless black leather vest with intricate red designs that revealed a dragon if you looked hard enough, echoing the tattoos on his arms. The trousers were long and lean and skintight, made from a fabric that combined the sheen and heft of leather with the shimmer and dazzle of sequins, ending in shiny black platform boots.

"What's this?" Merlin touched a red leather bracelet on Arthur's wrist that he hadn't noticed before.

"That's my good luck charm. I always wear something red for a performance. And what are you wearing?" Arthur pulled back to take a look at Merlin's outfit: a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans. He'd added a neckerchief, black with a white design, in an attempt to look trendy. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What is _that_?" Arthur flipped the end of the neckerchief.

"Um, well, it's…a neckerchief."

"A neckerchief." Arthur looked aghast. "No, Merlin." He pulled at the knot to take it off. "Just…no. Next thing it will be a trucker hat." He rolled his eyes. "You are hopeless."

Merlin shrugged his shoulders and flashed a smile. Arthur snorted, then used the neckerchief to pull Merlin toward him. "But adorable," he said, landing a soft kiss on Merlin's lips. He ruffled through Merlin's hair. "Now, what about the hair?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you going to do something with it?"

"Like what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, examining Merlin's hair again. He ran his hand through the soft, dark strands, leaving them slightly askew. He cupped the back of Merlin's neck, looking into his eyes. "Nothing. It's perfect." He kissed him deeply. "It's you."

~~~

The atmosphere in the green room was tense. Merlin sipped at a bottle of water, repeatedly checked the tuning of his guitar, and paced around the room. Arthur tapped his platform-booted foot, sat on the couch, picked up a newspaper, threw it down, then got up again. Occasionally he glanced at his phone and blew out a nervous breath.

"My father's here," he said. "So are Morgana, Sophia and Cedric." He rubbed his forehead. "Oh god."

Merlin put a comforting hand on his back. "My mom's here too. Will too. Even Freya." He swallowed anxiously, his throat dry again. He was trying not to think about how many people would be watching this. Gwen and Lance had already been backstage to wish them luck.

Arthur jerked his head up at that. "Really? Wow. Great."

"Did your father say anything about the picture?"

"He said we need to talk about it, but not until later. I guess I should be grateful for that." Arthur walked over to the refreshment table and back, then did a little circle around Merlin. Merlin didn't know how he even managed to walk in those boots.

They only had a few more minutes until they needed to get backstage.

"Considering those boots you're wearing, I better say, break a leg." Merlin giggled, a little hysterical.

Arthur glowered at him, then his face broke into a smile. He strutted ostentatiously over to Merlin, smirking, his hips swaying. "Babe." He took Merlin's hand, ignoring the show assistants puttering around the edges of the room. He leaned in for a kiss. "That audience isn't going know what hit them. We'll blast them out of the water. I don't care who wins anymore." Merlin kissed him back, clutching at his waist and slipping his fingers under the leather vest to stroke the hot, bare skin underneath. For a moment they clung to each other, the kiss growing more passionate, almost gnawing at each other's lips, needy tongues licking into each other's mouths.

They finally parted, breathing heavily, resting their foreheads together. Merlin murmured, "I don't care who wins either. Right now I just want to fuck you." Arthur laughed loudly, throwing back his head. He cupped Merlin's face and stroked his cheek with his thumb.

"Yeah, I'm right with you there." He dragged a hand down Merlin's back to his ass and squeezed. "My god, I want you so badly right now."

"Soon."

Someone called them to the backstage area and the reality of what was about to happen thudded back into Merlin's consciousness. His heart hammered madly in his chest, adrenaline surging through his body.

It was time.

~~~

Arthur sauntered out on to the stage, pulling on his rock star persona like a mask. It was still him, but a hundred times so, Arthur to the max, exaggerated and outsized, burning and bright. The audience brought it out in him automatically, like fuel to a flame.

Then he pulled it back as the beginning chords of _Angel_ started up, the song Arthur had talked about doing long ago. He told the audience this was for his mother, and the cameras zoomed in on Uther's stony face. Merlin's throat clogged with emotion. He and Arthur had talked for a long time about whether Arthur should dedicate the song to his mother. It wasn't an easy decision. He was risking his father's wrath, but he felt it was important. If not for his mother, he wouldn't be singing here at all.

Arthur's expression became sad, his eyes downcast as the slow song began, a solo piano setting a pensive mood. He started singing quietly, but with an intense, almost angry neediness that increased on the chorus, which he had sped up from the original version. His voice throbbed and wailed in a shockingly emotional way, like it was being pulled out of him by force and thrown to the winds. Merlin had heard him rehearse, but that was a pale foreshadowing of this powerful performance.

 _In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there_

There was a moment of silence at the end of the song before the audience erupted in wild applause. Arthur came off the stage looking wrecked, shoulders drooping, and Merlin threw his arms around him in a bear hug, telling him how fantastic he was. Someone handed Arthur a bottle of water and he glugged it down, then wiped his face with a towel, somehow avoiding smearing his eye makeup; a true pro.

After that, Merlin was sure Arthur was going to win. He felt a little dejected, but he was determined to enjoy his last performance. He slung his guitar over his head, lifted his chin and put a swagger in his step as he headed on to the stage.

The song was a bit of a blur. There were moments when it was going well. Then he'd feel like he was almost off key or just off the beat and grew afraid that the whole thing was about to go down the tubes. The song he'd chosen, _Dream A Little Dream Of Me_ , lent itself to a lean arrangement, with just himself on guitar backed by a piano, a bass and some percussion. It lilted with a nostalgic, jazzy sway, a wistful lullaby he could croon and caress, teasing out the notes like a lover's sigh.

From the rapt expressions on the girls' faces in the front rows, he knew it was working. He was in the zone, as confirmed by the pleased expressions on the judges' faces. When the song ended to happy sighs, he looked down as if embarrassed but secretly pleased, not trying to contain the big smile that naturally spread on his face.

Maybe he still had a chance.

~~~

After the show, he and Arthur were immediately pulled off in different directions by a frenzy of people wanting to see them, friends, family and press, wanting to give congratulations, get an interview, and who knows what else. There was barely a moment to think, with the constant barrage of people seeking their attention, and by the end of the night, Merlin felt like his mouth was permanently stuck in a smile and his voice was getting hoarse.

He was so happy to see his mother, Will and Freya, Gwen and Lance again, especially after all those final weeks of stress. They were all ecstatic about his performance and his mother was practically glowing with pride. She spirited him off for a celebratory dinner, which had to end early when he started nodding off after one glass of champagne.

He'd seen Arthur's father backstage, along with Morgana, who was even more beautiful up close. The rest of Arthur's entourage crowded around, including the ethereal Sophia and Cedric. A hulking bodyguard silently loomed nearby. The entourage had been conspicuously absent during the contest, but Arthur didn't seem to miss them. Uther greeted Arthur with a backslapping hug and some quiet words whispered in his ear. Arthur looked pleased, so his father must have been okay with the performance. Perhaps he would finally realize that Arthur really was talented.

Merlin exchanged a look with Arthur before his father bundled him off. From his expression, things were going well. Merlin grinned at him across the room and Arthur grinned back, until Will pulled his attention away with a question. His mother gave him an arch look that said she knew something was going on between him and Arthur. The grin Merlin gave her just about broke his face, as he turned a rather vivid shade of pink.

~~~

The roller coaster was slowing down finally, the final incline coming into view. Merlin and Arthur spent the next day trying to ward off anxiety as they waited for the results show that night, plunging themselves into the usual round of _You're The Voice_ activities. They didn't talk about the future and they didn't analyze their performances after a first, initial debriefing the next morning.

Arthur could relax on one matter though. As he told Merlin, his father had turned a corner with regard to his musical aspirations. He confided to Arthur that he saw a lot of Igraine in him as he stood up on the stage: the way the lights set his hair aglow, how his head tilted in the same way as hers when he reached for a high note. He assured Arthur that Igraine would have been pleased to see him continue in her path. He was coming round and Merlin could see a new lightness to Arthur's bearing as the burden of his father's disapproval began to ease up.

As for their rival, Mitch, both Merlin and Arthur thought he was a total weirdo with a gimmicky voice – he sang everything in almost a falsetto. No depth whatsoever. Why he had gotten as far as he did, no one knew. He did have nice suits though and Arthur made sure to get the name of his tailor.

The results show was excruciating, as usual: performance after performance of artists who were big a decade earlier, plus a couple of _Voice_ alums. Merlin had hoped they'd have a chance to talk to them, maybe gain some insight into their experiences, but they were hustled off before they had a chance. Then there was that embarrassing car commercial they had to make every week. Merlin cringed when he saw his big, fake smile trying to show what a fantastic car he was driving.

Endless hours later, the host finally called the three remaining contestants to stand next to him on the stage. Merlin's palms started to itch and he couldn't stand still; he wanted to twitch and fidget, but they were under strict instructions to stand as still as possible so as not to spoil the suspenseful moment. As the host geared up to make his announcement, Merlin exchanged a look with Arthur, but he couldn't read his face. Merlin was looking down when the host said the name of the contestant to be eliminated.

- _Arthur Pendragon_ -

He jerked his head up to look back at Arthur, who was staring out into the audience, still as a statue, a muscle bunching in his jaw the only indication of distress.

Merlin felt his chest tighten with a mix of emotions, from disappointment that Arthur was out, to terror at the thought of the finale, to a thrill of victory at being a finalist. He heard a whoop from the audience and he knew it was Will. He looked at Mitch, dumbfounded that they were the two finalists. Yet maybe – just maybe - he might actually win this thing.

~~~

Merlin congratulated Mitch, and walked backstage like a zombie. Everyone was bundled off immediately to do some press, so Merlin didn't have a chance to really talk to Arthur until later. They made do with a quick hug backstage.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said. He almost felt guilty. Not quite, but almost.

"Why? Don't be. I'm just as happy not to be the winner. I won't have to take their damn contract. I'll be more free to do what I want." Arthur was sanguine. He actually did seem to be happy, more relaxed. "I told you I didn't care anymore which of us won. I've got this close, that's the important thing."

Merlin nodded, his arms wrapped tightly around Arthur's waist. "Makes sense." It was so weird that Arthur was finally out, after all these weeks. He saw Uther approaching and quickly pulled his arms away. "Your father's here. I'll talk to you later."

"Wait." Arthur pulled him back into an embrace and gave him a full-on kiss right in front of his father. "See you later." He winked. Merlin didn't wait to see what Uther's reaction was; he saw his mother and his friends waiting and immediately flushed red because they obviously saw the kiss. No secrets now.

~~~

This week was the strangest of Merlin's life. It was all surreal. The fact that he and Mitch were the finalists was almost incomprehensible. No one had expected Arthur to be eliminated before the finale, so the press was atwitter with what it all meant, wondering whether _You're The Voice_ was still a star-making machine, playing catch up with more coverage of Mitch and Merlin, surmising what Arthur would be doing next and why America had voted him out. Was he too flashy? Was he too rich? Too gay? Was it those pictures from the internet? Were the votes rigged somehow?

Arthur himself plunged head long into helping Merlin with the last performance. He'd given up on sprucing up Merlin's appearance, deciding Merlin was best off just being himself, casual and unassuming. He wouldn't give Merlin a moment alone. In fact, he was getting quite bossy about what he thought Merlin should do with his performance and Merlin had to read him the riot act to get some space just so he could think.

When Arthur wasn't trying to boss him around, he was trying to get him to have sex.

"Come on, Merlin." Arthur came up behind him as he tried to work out a chord progression on his guitar. He slipped his arms around Merlin's waist under the guitar and started fiddling with the button on his jeans.

"We talked about this." Merlin said, impatiently. He wanted to - badly. And Arthur was making it hard to resist. But it was just too distracting. And he wanted their first time to be special, not something rushed in the midst of all the stress and anxiety about the show.

Arthur's hand wandered under his waistband, stroking his stomach. Merlin's breath hitched and he pulled away, his movements hampered by the guitar. He spun around to face Arthur.

"Damn it, Arthur, stop! Just because it's over for you, doesn't mean you can do whatever you want now. Maybe you should try thinking about somebody other than Arthur Pendragon." Merlin spoke without thinking and immediately regretted his words.

Arthur's face hardened. "Fine." He flung the word in Merlin's face. "If you don't want me around, I'll leave." He turned around and strode out the room.

Merlin ran for the door. "Arthur, wait!" But Arthur was already around the corner out of sight.

Shit.

~~~

 _Beep._

"Hi, Arthur, just wanted to see how you were doing."

He didn't call back.

 

 _Beep._

"Arthur, I wasn't sure what you thought I should do at the very end of the song. Did you say go up to the high F and or the high C?"

No response.

 

 _Beep._

"Arthur, please. Just call me."

 

Merlin was getting desperate now. The week was winding down; the performance was getting closer. He couldn't stand the thought of Arthur not being there; they had to make things up before the show. He needed to see Arthur's golden head like a beacon backstage, supporting him.

Thankfully, _You're The Voice_ supplied the one thing he knew Arthur couldn't resist. His stomach was in knots as he punched in the familiar number.

 _Beep._

"Hey, I wanted you to know, they just told us they're bringing back the top finalists to perform duets on the results show. I want you to sing with me." Merlin hesitated, not knowing what else to say. "Okay, um, well, bye now." He pushed the off button on the phone. If this didn't work, it was hopeless.

Five minutes later, Arthur called back.

"You got my message?"

"Yeah."

"So, are you in?"

"Haha, very funny. Of course!"

"Well, I don't know, I thought you might have lost interest in this whole thing."

"How could you think that?"

Merlin looked at the phone with disbelief. "Because you haven't returned any of my phone calls, you nitwit!"

Arthur didn't seem to have any answer to that.

Merlin blew out a breath. "Okay, we'll talk about that later. Meet me at the rehearsal room in half an hour."

Arthur was there when Merlin arrived, delectable in a red open-necked Henley t-shirt, silver pendant, and jeans. He was leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets. "Hi."

"Hi." He was damned sure not going to make the first move.

Arthur straightened up and came up to Merlin, putting his hands on Merlin's shoulders and stroking up and down his upper arms. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"Why couldn't you have said that a couple of days ago? It's been hell." Merlin glared at him.

Arthur shifted, looked away. "I know. My father had some down time and we needed to talk. I think we've got it all straightened out now."

Merlin gulped, not quite willing to give up the focus on his own desires. "I needed you."

"I know. I'm sorry. From now on, it's all for you. Whatever you want. Or don't want. I'm here to help however I can."

The words didn't come easily, Merlin could see, but they were heart-felt. "Yeah. All right." Merlin cleared his throat. "Um, thanks." He wasn't very good at this sort of thing. "Sorry for yelling at you. And I'm really glad about your father."

"He wants to meet you by the way."

Merlin gaped. That was really too much to bear thinking about right now.

"So, are we okay now?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

Merlin ventured a grin. "Yep, we're okay." He steered Arthur into the rehearsal room with a hand on his back. "So what do you want to sing?"

~~~

Merlin wasn't sure how he got through the finale.

The show passed like a dream. There were moments that dragged like hours and others that sped away like bubbles bursting. Merlin could remember some details vividly: a flickering fluorescent light backstage reflected in the blue of Arthur's eyes, _light dark light dark_ ; the slickness of sweat on his fingers as they clutched the neck of his guitar while he waited to go on.

Other things were rushed and unfocused. The minutes before he went on seemed to last forever, but as soon as he strode onto the stage and peered out into the darkness of the theater, the mass of people just a hodgepodge of flesh tones and glittery eyes, it was a wave of pure, thudding sensation with everything focused on that moment when he struck a chord and lifted his voice. Everything he'd hoped for, everything he'd prepared, endlessly and repeatedly, centered on that moment. He could sense his mother, Will, his other friends out there somewhere and he didn't want to look for them, see their faces, but it was enough to know they were there.

This was only the first of three songs he had to sing tonight, but it would set the tone. If this one went well, it would boost his confidence and increase the likelihood that the others would go smoothly as well. He chose to start with the song he liked the least, the producer's choice of the Shania Twain hit, _You're Still The One_. The song had a nice melody and was easy to sing. He stripped it of all its country origins, and sped it up to a driving rock beat with some nice guitar licks in the instrumental breaks, and hoped that it worked.

As he finished the first phrase of the song, he paused to take a breath, moving his fingers into the next chord, and quickly assessing the audience's reaction: it was positive. He could feel the song coalesce and take shape, all the parts moving together effortlessly and the audience was coming with him. He had them and it made all the difference in the world. Now he could really get into the song, its images and words flowing easily through him exactly as they should, his voice hitting the sweet spot even at the edges of his range. That thrill of joy at making music welled up inside him, tears pricking at his eyes.

It was over almost before it began, it seemed, and the audience rose up and cheered him, the judges beamed, he took a bow and then he was backstage again, shaking as if he'd run a marathon.

Two more songs to go and it would all be over.

After the first one, he relaxed a bit, standing quietly backstage holding Arthur's hand, not thinking about much except visualizing the beginning of the next song. When the time came, Arthur squeezed his hand and he walked back onstage, feeling much more confident and assured.

Both songs went well. Merlin tried not to think about Mitch. He sounded the same as always. Surely there was greater applause for Merlin, wasn't there? It was hard to tell. As the host reeled off the phone number to call to vote for Merlin, he couldn't believe this was the last time.

As he came offstage after the last song, he looked for the blue of Arthur's eyes and the sweep of his blond hair, heading for him on automatic pilot. Arthur hugged him and congratulated him, and then time slowed again as crowds of people surrounded him in a babble of voices, flowers being shoved in his hands, questions being asked and demands made. None of it seemed to make any sense.

He'd done it. The singing was all over, for now, until the results show the next day.

When he'd cleaned up and changed, and was staring into space, sitting like a insentient lump in a hard, uncomfortable folding chair, clutching an empty water bottle, Arthur pulled him up, put his arm around his shoulders, and led him out the door. "I'm taking you back to the hotel, Merlin. I'm making you tea and tucking you into bed. Alone."

~~~

The final hours of the contest approached. There was nothing more for Merlin to do but wait. He and Arthur had prepared their duet; that was just for fun and he wasn't worried about it. He was anxious, but the die was already cast; the votes were in, they just had to wait to find out the results.

Merlin and Arthur had spent part of the day shopping for a black leather jacket that Arthur somehow convinced Merlin to add to his bare bones show outfit. It was the kind that was short and zipped up to a stand-up collar. Arthur took him to his favorite shop and told him money was no object; he was paying.

"How do I look?" Merlin had asked as he stood in front of the mirror, pulling down the bottom edge of the black leather jacket. "Isn't this going to be hot under all those lights?"

"Yeah, hot is right." Arthur had replied, surveying him with a long look. "You are going to be smokin'. This will turn those girls in the front row into puddles of goo." Merlin had rolled his eyes, but was inwardly quite pleased. Arthur was right; he did look hot.

On the drive over to the theater, Arthur kept sneaking him glances, with a hand on Merlin's thigh tracing the inside seam of his jeans. As Arthur's fingers crept upward, Merlin's gaze rose to meet his; his breath caught in his throat at the look of pure want there. His cock twitched to life against the tight cage of his jeans. Why was it that he'd resisted for so long? He couldn't even remember in the fog of lust that clouded his thoughts. Now that the contest was practically over, there was no reason not to give in to the need that now set his skin on fire.

He glanced at the driver, then back at Arthur. Arthur's hand pressed against his crotch, the rough cloth pulling against his stiffening cock and making the blood roar in his ears. Merlin wanted more than anything to reach over and kiss Arthur, slip his tongue between those succulent lips, but the presence of the driver held him back. Instead he laid his hand over Arthur's as it curled between his legs and stroked Arthur's long fingers as his erection pushed more and more insistently at his jeans. It was hardly discrete, but it was better than mauling Arthur against the side of the car.

He gave Arthur a wicked little smile.

"I really like that jacket," Arthur said. Merlin chuckled.

~~~

Moments later, Arthur had Merlin up against the wall of a backstage storage closet, hungrily sucking at his lower lip, chest and hips plastered against Merlin's as he ground into him. Merlin moaned and lunged toward Arthur's lips with equal fervor, his hands gripping Arthur's back, the fabric of the shirt bunching under his fingers. Arthur had manhandled him into the closet a few minutes earlier, and Merlin was just as eager as he was, helpless before the throbbing rush of want.

He shoved his hands up under the back of Arthur's shirt to get at the bare flesh there, the broad planes of muscle warm and smooth. Arthur's lips were soft and demanding; Merlin's tongue delved between them with insistent strokes, the inside moist and giving as he swirled his tongue around Arthur's.

"Feels so good," he murmured into Arthur's mouth, one hand buried in his hair, the other seeking more bare skin below Arthur's waistband. He just wanted to feel him, after all this time looking at his bare arms, the V of his chest above his shirts, the curve of his neck. Now he could finally touch all that skin and he wanted it all, right now.

His fingers brushed the fleshy curve of Arthur's buttocks, dipped between them. " _Ohhh_." Arthur surged into him again with a gasp and bit into the puffy flesh of Merlin's lip, working it between his own lips. "Your mouth drives me crazy," he said in a voice husky with want. "I just look at you sometimes and I get hard."

At that, Merlin felt his own erection harden to marble as Arthur pulled him even closer, clutching his ass. Arthur's stiff arousal rubbed against his own, and, oh God, he couldn't help it, he rutted frantically against Arthur's straining cock, trying desperately to increase the contact through the thick fabric of his jeans. "Arthur," he sighed, desperate, and Arthur scrabbled to undo the button and zipper of Merlin's pants, reaching in to free his erection. The feeling of Arthur's hand on his cock was almost too much; he whimpered at the skin on skin contact, sagging against the wall.

"Gorgeous," Arthur said, running his fingers down his cock before kissing him greedily, Merlin's head hitting the wall with a thud. Arthur stroked his length, exploring the territory with his hand, big and firm against the hot, tight length, and Merlin began to see stars. Arthur formed a fist, his fingers impossibly tight and providing the most wonderful friction, as he mapped the tender skin of Merlin's neck with his lips.

He murmured something about Merlin's neck being irresistible as he licked upward towards Merlin's ear. Other sweet nothings fell from his mouth - Merlin didn't catch them as he was too preoccupied by what Arthur was doing to his cock. Merlin's lips parted and his eyes closed as the world narrowed to the feeling of Arthur's hand on his erection, now sliding more easily from the liquid leaking from the tip. He was barely aware of where he was; there was just the weight of Arthur's body against his, the scent of his aftershave and his own ineffable unique scent mingling in his nose; the scrape of his teeth against his earlobe.

Arthur made small grunting noises into Merlin's hair and his hand slipping up and down made a slick slapping sound. As Arthur gave it a delicious little twist at the top, an intense wave of sensation spread from Merlin's cock, thrumming through his entire lower body and rolling up his spine. He arched into Arthur, clinging to his shoulders and digging his fingernails in. As the wave crested, Arthur's mouth sealed tightly onto his and Merlin moaned into it as he came, hot come seeping between Arthur's tightly clutching fingers.

Arthur tried to find something to clean him up, but Merlin batted away his hands so he could wrap him in his arms to kiss him slow and deep. He'd never been so moved by an orgasm before. The feeling of belonging was overwhelming – his eyes pricked with hot tears, overcome with awe at the intensity.

"Oh, God, Arthur, I just…I…" He felt three words come to his mind, unbidden, but he couldn't say them. Not here, not now; not yet. But they echoed in his mind: _I love you._

"Merlin, Merlin," Arthur muttered under his breath. He responded energetically to Merlin's kiss, his hands roaming over Merlin's body again, seeking openings in his clothes like a heat-seeking missile. His hands slipped under Merlin's shirt, up his back, grazed his rear end. Merlin remembered Arthur was still hard; his pants weren't even open. He worked quickly to remedy that, yanking open the zipper and pulling out Arthur's cock. It sprung out, throbbing and red. Arthur shuddered at the feel of Merlin's hand, grabbing it to curl around his cock, the pre-come smearing down the side of it as Merlin's palm took hold.

"Harder," Arthur ordered him, attacking his mouth with a crushing kiss and bucking up into his hand, his pants falling down his thighs. Merlin jerked his fist up and down, smearing the tip with his thumb to spread around more of the seeping wetness. Arthur gasped, his face in a grimace and his body tensed, clinging to Merlin as he worked his fist.

"Don't stop," Arthur grunted, even though Merlin gave no sign of doing so. Seeing Arthur in the throes of passion, flushed and transported, he felt another wave of affection. He kissed him again, fiercely latching his mouth onto Arthur's. He kept up the movement of his hand as Arthur finished with a few intense pulses, and continued stroking him gently until he stilled. Arthur leaned against him, Merlin holding him with an arm around his back.

"You just never stop being bossy, do you?" Merlin joked softly into Arthur's hair, twining his fingers through the strands.

Arthur snorted, then heaved a giant sigh of satisfaction. He cradled Merlin's face with his hand, placing soft kisses on his cheek, his jaw, and his neck. Merlin was afraid to look at the state of their clothes, as he looked around for something, anything, to wipe them up. At least the jacket was probably safe.

Arthur sighed. "Are you sure we have to do this show? Can't we just go back to your hotel room and fuck like bunnies?" He lapped at Merlin's collarbone. "I love this part of you. I could spend hours doing this," he said between strokes of his tongue.

Merlin snorted and smoothed down Arthur's hair, running his hand down the back of his neck and resting it there. It came rushing back, where he was and why. Not that it had really left his mind completely, but he'd put it aside in the frenetic onslaught of their coupling. He blew out a breath. "We better go. You never know, they might actually need something in here for the show."

Arthur chuckled. "Hopefully there are no hidden cameras. Otherwise the internet's going to explode tomorrow."

Merlin straightened up and tried to assess his clothing. Arthur half-heartedly pushed him back and started suckling on his earlobe. "Just a little more?"

Merlin leaned into him for a moment, savoring the intimate moment. "Aren't you worried about your outfit?"

"Nah. Clothes are overrated. Right now, I'd really like to get to know you without them." He trailed his hands over Merlin's ass. "I still haven't seen you naked."

The thought of getting completely naked with Arthur and feeling him all over was almost enough to make him want to ditch the whole results show. He shivered at the prospect. But he wasn't quite that insane. "I'd love to. I'd like nothing better, believe me." He raked his gaze over Arthur's body, then claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss. "Later."

~~~

If Merlin had to listen to one more passé music act, he was going to run out of the theater screaming. But he was an expert now on plastering a convincing smile on his face, so much so that the press never failed to mention his cheery demeanor and its appeal to teenage girls. So he sat through a few more hours of it; the very last ones.

The encounter with Arthur in the storage closet had a surprising effect: it made him feel more grounded, more confident that it would all turn out well in the end, even if he didn't win. After all, Arthur had handled his elimination with aplomb and never failed to look on the positive side. He had plans for his future, and he preferred not to have his hands tied by a contract with the show's production company.

Several of the final few contestants were doing duets; a new feature this year. Merlin and Arthur were among the last to perform. They'd thought a long time about a song that would suit both their voices and they would both enjoy singing; they'd decided on _The Long and Winding Road,_ by The Beatles.

This time Arthur left the glitter and sequins in the closet and stuck with simple eyeliner. They both dressed in black, Merlin with the leather jacket of course, and Arthur in a button-down black shirt and black jeans, still with the big dragon belt buckle. Just looking at him made Merlin's breath catch; he looked that good. Merlin wore just a black t-shirt and jeans, as usual. His hair was tousled after their encounter in the storage closet; Arthur said it looked good and ran some product in it to keep it that way, as he endured Merlin's eye rolls.

They sang the song with old-fashioned stand mics just for the effect, and Merlin opted not to play his guitar. They didn't go for any flashy effects or unusual interpretations this time; the song would stand for itself. At first they alternated lines, singing back and forth. As it went on, they sang together, harmonizing, their voices blending perfectly.

 _The long and winding road  
That leads to your door  
Will never disappear  
I've seen that road before  
It always leads me here  
Lead me to your door._

As they sang, they found themselves moving closer together on that last line, pulled inexorably together by their growing affection. Merlin knew they should look out at the audience, communicate with them, but his eyes kept catching in Arthur's and he couldn't pull them away, drawn by their magnetic blue. Arthur gave him a little smile as he took a breath between phrases, his eyes twinkling at him; Merlin knew he felt the same.

Arthur was _right there_ next to him, their shoulders bumping together as they swayed to the music. Suspended in Arthur's gaze, Merlin was lost in the moment, content to stay there, his voice soaring high with the melody. The crowd, the cameras, were a million miles away ...

 _lead me to your door_ -

When the music faded off, Merlin found himself leaning towards Arthur, propelled by the thrill of singing together mixed with the heightened emotions of their earlier intimacy. Arthur was leaning towards him also – his mouth and his eyes seemed larger than life – and in the next moment, Arthur was folding him in his arms and they were kissing passionately. There was a dull roar in his ears that was probably the audience, but all Merlin could think about was Arthur.

When they came to, people were gesturing frantically backstage and Merlin had a moment of complete mortification. Did that really just happen? But then he looked at Arthur and saw the emotion in his eyes and he didn't care what anyone else thought at all.

Judging from the swooning looks on the girls in the front row, that wasn't going to be a problem.

It was finally time to announce the winner. Once again, the surreal aspect of the whole thing kicked in as Merlin sat next to Mitch waiting for the host to _get on with it already_. Was he really here on _You're The Voice_ waiting to hear whether he was the winner? His stomach was full of butterflies and his limbs felt like rubber. While he worried about the kiss with Arthur, the votes had been counted the night before; tonight's show had no effect on the outcome.

The host called Mitch and Merlin to stand next to him. To up the suspense, he dragged it out the moment as long as possible, the moment of silence seeming to stretch for hours before he announced the winner's name.

"Mitch Stewart," he read from a card.

Merlin felt the bottom of his stomach drop out; he was paralyzed with shock as he heard gasps from backstage and the audience erupting with cheers and boos. Merlin congratulated Mitch, smiling on automatic pilot. Then his eyes sought Arthur's where he waited backstage. He was smiling and that made everything better. It wasn't that he'd expected to win so much as it seemed utterly wrong that Mitch had; he so clearly didn't deserve it out of the field of excellent singers who had been eliminated earlier. But one look at Arthur let him know that everything was going to be all right.

A few minutes later, watching Mitch sing the really crap official single for this round of _You're The Voice_ , he was actually relieved he hadn't won. That song sucked.

 

 _One year later:_

"So. Arthur and Merlin. Nice to have you on the program." The interviewer flashed them a cheery, blindingly white smile. "You're looking well."

"Thank you, Barbara, it's nice to be here," Arthur replied in practiced tones. He and Merlin were seated next to each other on a blue couch, with the interviewer in an armchair across from them. They had just kicked off the publicity tour for their album.

"How was the _You're The Voice_ tour?"

"Fantastic. It was loads of fun and we were happy to see all the fans come out." Arthur looked to Merlin for confirmation.

"Yeah, that's right. It went really well. And now our album is really taking off." Merlin had learned a thing or two about self-promotion. Gwen, who was now their manager, nodded approvingly from off-set.

The interviewer held up a copy of their CD. "Arthur and Merlin's CD, _Two Sides of a Coin_ , is available everywhere now." The audience cheered as they showed a close-up of the album and a promo shot.

[ ](http://s522.photobucket.com/albums/w341/alba8613/Merlin/?action=view&current=alba-2sidesofacoin.jpg)

[ ](http://s522.photobucket.com/albums/w341/alba8613/Merlin/?action=view&current=albasalbumpic.png)

She turned back to Arthur and Merlin. "Now, I'm not sure anyone from _You're The Voice_ has ever released a joint album before. Did it all start with that duet in the finale? That seem to go very well," she said, raising her eyebrows. There was a bit of cheering from the audience; Merlin and Arthur grinned at each other, finally used to the public eye on their relationship. Arthur took Merlin's hand, but held it discretely between their legs.

"Well, yeah, that's how it started, with that duet, and we're so grateful for _You're The Voice_ giving us the opportunity to sing together," Merlin answered.

"Merlin actually wrote most of the songs." Arthur beamed at him with pride. "We got so many ideas on tour, we headed for the studio to start recording as soon as we got back to LA."

"I hear you two have developed quite the fan base." The interviewer showed a clip of a crowd going wild as they kissed during a _Voice_ concert. She flashed her shiny smile at them as if giving them her blessing.

Merlin smiled over his discomfort. It had actually happened only a couple of times during the tour when they got particularly carried away; it was kind of embarrassing to have the clip shown to millions on TV. But Gwen said teenage girls (and a surprising number of their mothers) liked that sort of thing.

"I guess I don't have to ask whether either of you are seeing anyone." Barbara giggled.

Merlin squeezed Arthur's hand and sighed inwardly. He was thrilled beyond words with his life now, but the publicity was a chore.

"And now _Two Sides of a Coin_ is in the top ten on iTunes, is that right?"

"Yes. It's really unbelievable," Merlin said sincerely.

"And what's next for you two?"

"Well, as soon as we finish building the studio behind our house, we'll be working on our next album," Arthur said. "Merlin says I have to write at least one song for this one. I'm not pulling my weight, according to him." He raised an eyebrow at Merlin.

Merlin swatted him affectionately.

It was the kind of life Merlin had always dreamed of, but never expected to have. And he owed it all to _You're The Voice_.


End file.
